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OLD    PARIS 

ITS  COURT  AND  LITERARY  SALONS 
Volume  I. 


LADY  JACKSON'S  WORKS. 

14    VOLUMES. 

OLD  PARIS.     Its  Court  and  Literary  Salons.     2  vols. 

THE   OLD   REOinE.      Court,    Salons    and    Theatres. 
2  vols. 

THE  COURT  OP  FRANCE  in  the  Sixteenth  Century, 
"5"4='559-    2  vols. 

THE    LAST    OF    THE    VALOIS,    and    Accession   of 
Henry   of  Navarre,    1559=1589.     2    vols. 

THE    FIRST    OF    THE    BOURBONS,    1589=1595.       2 
vols. 

THE   FRENCH    COURT    AND    SOCIETY.       Reign    of 
Louis    XVI.    and    First    Empire.     2   vols. 

THE  COURT  OF  THE  TUILERIES,    from    the   Res- 
toration to  the  Flight  of  Louis   Philippe.    2  vols. 

JOSEPH  KNIGHT  COMPANY,  Publishers, 
BOSTON,  MASS. 


Bnne  of  Buetria 


OLD    PARIS 


ITS   COURT   AND    LITERARY    SALONS 


CATHERINE   CHARLOTTE,  LADY    JACKSON 


"  L'esprit  de  soci6t6  est  le  partage  naturel  des  Fran<;ais ;  c'est 
un  m^rite  et  un  plaisir  dont  les  autres  peuples  ont  senti  le  besoin  " 

Voltaire 


In  Two  Volumes 
VOL.  I. 


IfflKitf)  Jllugtration« 


BOSTON 
JOSEPH    KNIGHT    COMPANY 

1895 


ColDuial  Press. 

H.  Simonds  &  Co.  —Geo.  C.  Scott  &  Sons. 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


Do 


7/3  o 


iBebicateti  to 
MRS.    M.    FRANKS 

BY    HER   AFFECTIONATE    FRIEND 

CATHERINE  CHARLOTTE  JACKSON 

IN     REMEMBRANCE    OF     A     PLEASANT     RECONTRE,     SOME     YEARS 
AGO,    IN   THE   GAY   CITY   OF   PA&IS 


471449 


CONTENTS    OF   VOL.  I. 


PAGE 

Introductory  Chapter        .  .  .  .  .     i 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  14th  of  May,  1610. — Coronation  of  Marie  de  Medicis. 
— Royal  Procession  at  Saint  Denis. — Coronation  Fete. — 
Floral  Decoration  of  Old  Paris. — The  Bourgeois  King. — 
Popularity  of  Henry  IV. — Henry  in  his  Fifty-seventh 
Year.— Angelique  Paulet. — The  King's  Coach. — Assassi- 
nation of  Henry  IV. — Intense  Grief  of  the  People. — A 
Royal  Widow's  Weeds. — The  Child-king  Louis  XIII. — 
The  Queen-regent's  Favourite  .  .  .  .9 

CHAPTER  III. 

Paris  at  the  time  of  Henry  IV.'s  Death. — The  Hotel  Saint 
Paul. — The  New  Louvre. — The  Hotel  de  Soissons. — 
Henry  III.'s  Vow. — Huguenot  and  Catholic. — Enlarge- 
ment of  the  Tuileries. — L'Hotel  de  Ville. — Le  Pont  Neuf. 
— La  Samaritaine. — A  Capucine  Convent. — Saint  Vincent 
de  Paul  .  .  .  .  .  .  .22 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Statesmen  and  Generals. — Poets  and  Satirists. — Marie  de 
Medicis. — The  Poet  Malherbe. — The  Joys  of  Heaven. — 
Ogier  de  Gombauld. — Religious  Novels. — "Astree,"  a 
Pastoral  Allegory. — Boileau's  Opinion  of  "Astree." — The 
lovelorn  Marquis  d'Urfe. — Diane  de  Chateaunormand. — 
A  gentle  Shepherd  and  Shepherdess. —  Death  of  the 
Shepherd. — "  Les  Amours  du  Grand  Alcandre  "     .  -32 

CHAPTER  V. 

Betrothal  of  Catherine  de  Vivonne  and  the  Count  d'An- 
gennes. — The  Pisani  Family. — The  Nobles  and  Clergy. — 
Educated  Women. —  Marguerite  de  France. — Desire  for 
Social  Intercourse. — La  Folie  Rambouillet. — The  Old 
Hotel  Pisani. — The    Hotel  de    Rambouillet. — The   Salon 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Bleu. — The  Luxembourg  Palace. — The  Marquise  de  Ram- 
bouillet. — Rising  Influence  of  Rambouillet. — The  Mar- 
quis de  Racan. — Armand  du  Plessis. — The  Ladies  of  the 
Rambouillet  Circle    .  .  .  .  .  -44 

CHAPTER  VL 

Louis  XIIL — The  Brothers  D'Albert. — Revels  a  I'ltalienne. 
— Le  Marechal  d'Ancre. — La  Perle  du  Marais. — The 
Hotel  Lesdiguieres. — The  Cours  de  la  Reine.- — Statue  of 
Henry  IV. — Prevalence  of  Duelling. — The  Queen  a  Peace- 
maker. —  The  Double  Spanish  Marriage.  —  Quadrilles 
d'Arioste. — Marriage  P'etes. — The  Girl-queen,  Anne  of 
Austria. — Marguerite  de  France       .  .  .  •     5^ 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Revolt  of  M.  le  Prince. — Elenora  Galagai. — Concini's  great 
Wealth. — "  The  Accursed  Jews." — Assassination  of  Con- 
cini.-^  His  Wife  burnt  as  a  Sorceress. — The  Queen-regent 
Exiled.  —  Armand  du  Plessis. —  Marie's  Return. — The 
Luxembourg. — Rubens'  Twenty-four  Paintings. — "  The 
Day  of  Dupes." — Escape  of  Marie  of  Brussels. — Riche- 
lieu rules  France. — Marie  in  Poverty  and  Exile       .  -71 

CHAPTER  VIIL 

Richelieu's  Patronage  of  Literature. — Richelieu,  Chapelain, 
and  "  Le  Cid." — The  Rambouillet  Circle. — Its  Discordant 
Elements. — Social  Savoir-faire  of  the  Marquise. — De- 
pravity of  the  Court. — The  Queen  and  Madame  de  Haute- 
fort. — Richelieu  and  Anne  of  Austria. — Mademoiselle  de 
La  Fayette. — Louis  XIIL  as  a  Lover. — An  Evening  at 
Rambouillet. — The  Fiery  Calprenede. — "  Le  Grand  Epis- 
tolier." — Cardinal  de  la  Valette. — Eaves-dropping. — "  Tel 
Maitre,  tel  Valet." — Gaston  d'Orleans  .  .  .83 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Boisrobert. — M.  le  Prince. — The  Mysterious  Oublieuse. — 
Her  Lute  and  her  Song. — La  Belle  Angelique  Paulet. — 
Her  Music  and  Dancing. — The  Jealous  Nightingales. — A 
Presumptuous  Bourgeois.  — Patriotism,  Religion,  and 
JLpve. — A  Noble  Lover. — Galants  et  Honnetes  Hommes.  : 
— Social  Supremacy  of  Woman      ....       9^^ 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Urbanity  Question. — Printed  Discourses  and  News- 
Letters. — The  Alermre  and  Gazette  de  France. — Romances 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

of  D'Urfe  and  Calprenede. — A  Rival  in  the  Field. — Made- 
leine de  Scudery. — Georges  de  Scudery. — Julie  d'An- 
gennes. — Madeleine  at  Rambouillet. — Madeleine  as  a  Poet- 
ess.— The  Flays  of  Georges  de  Scudery. — Georges  a  Virtu- 
oso.— An  Address  to  the  Gentle  Reader. — Success  of  "  Le 
Prince  Deguise." — Georges  popular  at  Rambouillet         .      109 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Plague  of  1631. — Terror  of  the  People. — Wretched 
State  of  the  City. — The  Chateau  de  St.  Germain. — A 
Royal  Cook. — The  Queen  and  her  Ladies. — Anne  and 
Louis  at  Thirty  Years  of  Age. — The  Rage  for  Dancing. 
— Richelieu's  ostentatious  Pomp. — The  Regulation  of 
Costume. — Mortification  of  the  Noblesse. — The  Right 
Divine. — The  Plague  at  Rambouillet. — A  Miracle  .  .122 

CHAPTER  Xn. 

The  Due  de  Montausier's  First  Visit  to  Rambouillet. — Love 
at  First  Sight. — A  Constant  Lover. — Vincent  Voiture. — 
His  Sonnets  and  Letters. — His  Letter  to  Madame  de 
Sainctot.  —  Voiture  Reengcndre. —  De  Chavigny's  Im- 
promptu.— Voiture's  Presumption. — Voiture  in  Love. — 
A  Wager. — Two  Sentinels. — A  Privileged  Buffoon  .     134 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Conrart's  Petite  Academic.  —  The  Cardinal's  Secretary. — 
Admitted  to  the  Salon  Conrart. — Received  as  Tenth  Mem- 
ber.— French  Academy  founded. — "  Le  Cid  "  of  Corneille. 
— The  Academy  invited  to  decry  it.—"  Le  Cid  "  first  read  __ 
in  the  Salon  Bleu. — Le  Dictionnaire  de  I'Academie. — Ua^ 
Bureau  d'Esprit.  —  The  Vicomte  de  Combalet.  —  The 
Widowed  Madame  de  Combalet. — Becomes  la  Duchesse 
d'Aiguillon. — The  rival  Salons. — The  Salon  Bleu  still 
bears  the  Palm        .  .  .  .  .  -145 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Contrasts  and  Changes  in  French  Society. — The  World  and 
the  Cloister. — Vinceat^  a,  J\)pul^ar  C onfessor.-^Hejiet ires 
to  the  Oratoire. — Preceptor  to  the  Sons  of  De  Gondy. — 
Spiritual  Director  of  Louis  XIII. — Successful  Appeals  for 
Alms. — The  Sisters  of  Charity. — L'Hopital  des  Enfants 
Trouves. — Le  Commandeur  de  Sillery. — Story  of  Vincent's 
Earlier  Life. — The  Captive  Greek. — Vincent  a  Friend  to 
the  Poor         .  .  .  .  .  .  .158 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Debut  of  Mdlle.  de  Bourbon-Conde. — Her  Toilette  and  her 
Cilice. — Her  Desire  to  take  the  Veil. — Her  Parents  refuse 
their  Consent.  —  Introduced  at  Rambouillet.  —  Armed 
against  Satan's  Assaults. — Anne  of  Austria. — The  Cilice 
admonishes  in  Vain. — -Anne  de  Bourbon  converted. — The 
New  Star  and  her  Adorers. — The  Chateau  de  Chantilly. 
— Its  Gardens  and  Grounds. — Amusements  of  the  Guests. 
— The  Letter-Bag.— A  Letter  from  Voiture. — Tossed  in  a 
Counterpane. — Marriage  of  Anne  de  Bourbon. — "  The 
Cook's  Daughter." — The  Marquise  de  Sable. — Beauty  of 
Madame  de  Longueville. — An  Attack  of  Small-pox  .  169 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

War  with  Spain. — Louis's  Love  of  the  Camp. — Birth  of  the 
Dauphin. — A  second  Enfant  de  France. — Le  Grand  Conde. 
— Marries  Richelieu's  Niece. — Morbid  Fancies  of  Louis 
XIII. — Death  of  Marie  de  Medicis. — Sympathy  of  the 
People.  —  Richelieu's  failing  Health.  —  Cinq  Mars. — 
Provokes  the  King's  Anger.  —  His  picturesque  Appear- 
ance.— Un  mauvais  quart  d'heure. — Death  of  the  great 
Cardinal. — If  a  great  Minister,  but  a  poor  Poet      .  .187 

CHAPTER  XVIL 

Louis  once  more  is  King. — Economy  the  Order  of  the  Day. 
— Le  Seigneur  de  Montauron. — Converts  a  la  Montauron. 
—Profuse  Hospitality. —  Corneille  and  his  Patrons. — 
Death  of  Louis  XIII. — Anne  appointed  Regent. — Paris 
at  the  Death  of  Louis  XIII. — The  Cardinal's  Improve- 
ments.— Oases  in  the  Desert. — Numerous  Convents.  .  201 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Recovery  of  the  Young  Duchesse. — She  reappears  in  the 
Beau  Monde. — Chapelain's  "  Pucelle." — The  Duchesse's 
Opinion. — La  Guirlande  de  Julie. — Tallemant  des  Reaux. 
— Les  "  Historiettes." — Nicholas  Rambouillet. — Madame 
de  la  Sabliere. — La  Haute  Volee  and  the  Financier. — 
Funeste  Distraction  .  .  .  .  .  .211 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

La  Bonne  Regence. — Exiles  recalled. — Captives  set  Free. — 
The  Bishop  of  Beauvais.^ — The  Due  de  Beaufort. — Cardi- 
nal Mazarin.^ — His  affected  Humility. — Indolence  of  the 
Queen-regent. —  Evenings  at  Court. — The  Wily  and  "  Beau 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Cardinal." — Laurels  and  Bays. — Voiture,  a  Royal  Favour- 
ite.— An  Impromptu  .  .  .  .  .221 

CHAPTER  XX. 

War  with  Spain  continued. — Rocroi,  Thionville  and  Cirq. — 
Public  Rejoicings  and  Fetes. — Silly  Practical  Jokes. — The 
Young  Hero  and  his  Family. — Portrait  of  the  Hero. — M. 
de  Feuquieres'  Protege. — An  appropriate  Text. — A  Sermon 
at  Rambouillet. — Debut  of  a  great  Orator. — Un  Charmant 
Homme. —  A  Fashionable  Abbe.-T-.TJafi._Abbe^Ctfeaee&-.a- 
Rival. — The  Abbe  attempts  a  Sermon. — Interrupted  by  a 
Nervous  Lady. — The  Congregation  disperses  .  .  231 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Old  Paris. — A  Leader  of  Fashion.— Reappears  on  the  Cours. 
—  Mdlle.  Ninon  de  Lenclos. — Returns  to  the  World. — 
Grief  for  the  Loss  of  her  Mother.  —  Representative 
Women.  ■ —  Ninon's  Accomplishments.  —  Soon  Weary  of 
Rambouillet.  —  The  Salon  of  Ninon.  —  Theories  of  the 
Abbe  Gedouyn. — The  Court  of  the  Marais.- — The  Queen's 
Order  to  Ninon. — A  Pa\'ilion  at  the  Grands  Chartreux. — 
A  Lady  of  very  high  Merit. — Ninon  strives  to  make  a 
Convert  .......  245 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  Convent  of  Val  Profond. — XIt^  Abbpy  r.f  Ya]  dp  Gra,rp. 
— Mansard's  Original  Design. — Education  of  the  Young 
Princes. — Lamothe  Le  Vayer. — A  Princely  Education.— 
Two  Terrible  Turks. — The  Duties  of  Piety. — The  Royal 
Brothers. — The  Court  at  F^ontainebleau. — The  Swedish 
Ambassador. — The  Daughter  of  the  "  Ice-King." — Car- 
tesian Philosophy. — The  Ambassador  FerpTexed. — His 
troubled  Spirit  Soothed        .  .  .  .  -259 

CHAPTER  XXin. 

Musical  Art  in  its  Infancy. — The  Band  of  Les  Mousquetaires. 
— A  Promenade  Concert. — Celebrities  of  the  Court. — De 
la  Rochefoucauld. — The  French  Navy. — Les  Beaux  Mous- 
quetaires.— Le  Comte  de  Coligny    ....  273 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  Mysterious  BilletsDoux. — To  Whom  do  they  Belong  ? 
— Rival  Belles. — A  Tale  of  Turpitude. — 'i'he  Lover  and  the 
Husband. — Public   Apology  Demanded. — Difticult   Diplo- 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

macy. — A  Doubtful  Peace. — Dispersion  of  "  Les  Impor- 
tants." — Coligny  Challenges  De  Guise. — A  Duel  on  the 
Place  Royale. — Death  of  De  Coligny. — "Argentan  et 
Ismanie." — Triste  Renown  of  the  Duchess  .  .  280 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Preparation  for  the  Public  Fetes  Suspended. — A  Defeat, 
a  Victory  and  a  Death. —  Constancy  Rewarded. —  The 
"  Carte  du  Pays  de  Tendre." — Woman's  Social  Equality 
Recognized. — Rambouillet  on  the  Wane. — Claire  Ange- 
lique  d'Angennes. — A  Duel  by  Torchlight. — Salons  of 
Madame  la  Princesse. — Sevigne  at  Rambouillet      .  .  293 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Victories  of  the  Due  d'Enghien. — The  Court  Envious  and 
Alarmed. — "  Veni,  Vidi,  Vici." — The  Duchess  received 
by  Turenne.— Her  Conquests  at  Miinster. — Death  of  Mon- 
sieur le  Prince. — His  Splendid  Funeral. — Italian  Opera 
Introduced. — The  Queen's  Piety  Vexes  Mazarin. — Made- 
moiselle de  Montpensier.  —  Louis  XIV.  and  Prince 
Charles. — The  Rival  Beauties  Reappear. — La  Belle  des 
Belles  Triumphant    ......  301 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Volume  I. 

PAGE 

Anne  of  Austria      =.....        Frontispiece 

Henry  IV. 32 

Peter  Paul  Rubens         .......  78 

CoRNEiLLE           ...                                 ...  150 

Louis  XIII 188 

BossuET 238 

Duke  de  la  Rochefoucauld          .....  276 

Prince  de  Conde  (le  grand  Conde)           .         ,         .  304 


OLD     PARIS 

ITS   COURT  AND   LITERARY   SALONS 


INTRODUCTORY    CHAPTER 

!hE  seventeenth  century,  in  its  literary 
and  social  aspects,  is  regarded  by 
French  writers  generally  as  the  most 
brilliant  period  in  the  history  of  their  nation.  It 
has  been  termed  "the  epoch  of  the  true  great- 
ness of  France,"  —  "the  true  Renaissance  of  lit- 
erature and  les  beaux  arts." 

It  is  indeed  a  period  of  very  varied  and 
romantic  interest.  Woman  played  an  impor- 
tant part  in  it  —  contributing  largely  towards  the 
reform  then  achieved  in  the  French  language, 
and  in  the  corrupt  and  gross  manners  of  the  age, 
and  introducing  into  the  social  relations  of  life 
that  peculiar  grace,  fascinating  ease,  vivacity, 
and  undefinable  charm  still  vainly  sought  for  in 
society  out  of  France. 

"Z«    vie    de    salon,'"    says    M.    Taine,     ''nest 


2  INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER 

parfaite  qtieu  France.''  And  it  is  true.  The 
social  reunions  of  other  nations  have  generally 
been  formed  on  that  model,  and  a  more  or  less 
"frenchified"  tone  has  been  imported  into  them  ; 
yet  the  peculiar  zest  of  that  subtle,  incommuni- 
cable essence  of  the  brain,  V esprit  de  societe, 
remains  still,  incontestably,  the  especial  gift  of 
the  French.  It  is  a  part  of  the  genius  of  the 
nation,  and  the  language  partakes  of  it  ;  none 
other  expressing  with  equal  facility  and  felicity 
all  that  is  lively,  complimentary,  witty,  graceful, 
tender,  refined. 

From  the  time  of  Louis  XII. — himself  a 
liberal  patron  of  learning,  and  in  whose  reign 
Greek  was  first  taught  in  the  schools  of  France 
—  there  had  been  occasional  gleams  of  the  ap- 
proaching dawn  of  a  fuller  intellectual  life.  They 
were,  however,  but  partial  and  fitful. 

The  young  queen,  Anne  of  Brittany,  lively 
and  spirituelle,  learned,  and  accomplished  for  the 
age  in  which  she  lived,  was  the  first  royal  con- 
sort of  France  who  bestowed  any  appreciative 
patronage  on  literature,  or  sought  to  draw  the 
wives  and  daughters  of  the  nobles  of  the  land 
from  the  seclusion  and  monotony  of  the  vie  de 
chdtean,  and  to  gather  a  social  circle  around  her. 

Those  noble  dames  and  damsels  were  willing 
enough,  when  it  chanced  that  their  feudal  lords 
and  masters  consented,  to  lay  aside  their  spinning- 
wheels  and  tapestry-frames  at  the  bidding  of  their 


INTRODUCTORY   CHAPTER  3 

queen ;  and  though  very  few,  probably,  could 
read  either  Latin  or  Greek  with  her,  yet  their 
presence  enlivened  the  old  Palais  des  Tournelles 
and  the  Chateau  d'Amboise,  and  gave  to  the  royal 
pastimes  new  spirit  and  variety.  For  this  Bre- 
tonne  Queen  of  France  held  a  separate  court, 
more  splendid  than  the  king's,  and  was  attended 
by  a  more  numerous  retinue  of  courtiers,  pages 
of  honour,  Breton  guards,  etc.  She  was  reigning 
Duchess  of  Brittany,  and,  as  such,  exacted  her 
full  meed  of  homage,  which  Louis  readily  accorded 
her,  being  rather  proud  of  '' sa  Bretonne,''  as 
he  was  accustomed  to  call  this  learned  and  rather 
self-willed  royal  lady.  Jean  Marot,  the  father 
of  Clement,  was  attached  to  the  court  in  the 
quality  of  her  poet,  and  with  the  high-sounding 
title  of  "  Poltc  dc  la  viagnifiquc  rcine,  Anne  de 
Brctagnc^  * 

Long  years  of  Italian  warfare,  though  most 
disastrous  to  France,  enriched  the  royal  library 
with  valuable  MSS.,  and  the  palaces  with  many 
treasures  of  art,  the  spoil  of  the  wars ;  and 
Francis  I.  and  some  few  of  his  nobles  imbibed 
in  Italy  a  taste  for  the  cJicfs-d' wnvre  of  sculpture, 
painting,  and  architecture.  Several  of  its  most 
renowned  artists  were  prevailed  on  to  visit  the 
French  court,  but  none  could  be  tempted  to  stay 

*  The  splendidly  illuminated  livre  d'heures  of  Anne  of  Brit- 
tany, preserved  amongst  the  treasures  of  the  Louvre,  is  a  work 
pf  exquisite  beauty  and  of  the  highest  style  of  art, 


4  INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER 

there ;  though  so  great,  we  are  told,  was  the 
veneration  of  Francis  for  learning  and  the  arts, 
that  when  any  distinguished  savants,  sculptors, 
or  painters  were  presented  to  him,  "  he  graciously 
made  a  point  of  advancing  three  steps  to  greet 
them." 

But  the  Italian  wars  depopulated  France ;  the 
heavy  burdens  laid  on  the  people  to  exact  the 
sums  necessary  for  carrying  them  on  impover- 
ished it  also.  The  lands  lay  untilled,  the  neces- 
saries of  life  were  scarcely  obtainable,  distress 
in  the  provinces  was  great  and  general.  The 
uncleanly  state  of  the  then  walled  and  compara- 
tively small  city  of  Paris  caused  frequent  outbursts 
of  fever,  plague,  and  small-pox,  which  considerably 
thinned  the  population.  The  people  were  grossly 
ignorant,  superstitious,  and  rough-mannered  ;  and 
the  court  had  degenerated  since  the  days  of  the 
beneficent  Louis  XII.  and  his  learned  and  virtuous 
queen, —  it  was  without  refinement;  vice  reigned 
there  supreme.  Immorality  and  obscenity,  which 
passed  current  for  wit  and  humour,  were  the 
chief  characteristics  of  the  writers  then  in  vogue. 
The  ladies  of  a  literary  bent  composed  "  devises 
d' amour,''  as  posies  for  rings  and  other  jewels,  or, 
when  ambitious  of  higher  flights,  wrote  licentious 
verses  and  tales,  after  the  manner  of  those  of 
Marguerite  de  Valois,  the  king's  sister.* 

*  The  lines  attributed  to  the  young  widow  of  Francis  II. — 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scotland  —  when  leaving  France,  are  pretty: 


INTRODUCTORY   CHAPTER  5 

Though  Francis  encouraged  Italian  artists, 
favoured  Ics  belles  lettres,  founded  the  College 
of  France,  began  the  rebuilding  of  the  Louvre, 
and  has  left  a  name  intimately  associated  with 
souvenirs  of  Fontainebleau,  his  reign  was  but  a 
series  of  calamities,  unfavourable  to  intellectual 
development  and  the  amelioration  of  the  condition 
of  the  people.  He  had  devised  measures  for  the 
increase  of  commerce  and  the  improvement  of  the 
navigation  of  the  Seine  ;  but  his  wretched  state 
of  health,  the  religious  dissensions,  domestic 
disturbances,  foreign  foes,  and  impoverished  ex- 
chequer prevented  their  realization. 

Henry  H.  formed  similar  schemes ;  but  his 
death,  in  1559,  from  being  wounded,  accidentally, 
at  a  tournament,  put  an  end  to  them.  He  had 
ordered  the  demolition  of  that  unhealthy  royal 
residence,  the  old  Palais  des  Tournelles,  and 
soon  after  his  decease  its  walls  were  thrown 
down,  and  its  pestiferous  moats  filled  up.  This 
fruitful  cause  of  disease  and  death  being  removed 

"Adieu,  plaisant  pays  de  France, 

O  ma  patrie, 

La  plus  cherie, 
Qui  a  nourri  ma  jeune  enfance ! 
Adieu,  France,  adieu  mes  beaux  jours! 
La  nef  qui  dejoint  mes  amours, 
N'aura  de  moi  que  la  moitie ; 
Une  part  te  reste,  elle  est  tienne, 
Je  la  fie  a  ton  amitie 
Pour  que  de  I'autre  il  te  souvienne." 


6  INTRODUCTORY   CHAPTER 

from  the  too  often  plague  -  stricken  city,  the 
building  of  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries  was 
begun  in  1564.  These  and  other  works  pro- 
gressed but  slowly  amidst  the  crimes  and  blood- 
shed that  were  the  principal  events  of  the 
regency  and  reigns  of  Catherine  de  Medicis 
and  her  sons. 

Charles  IX.,  whose  preceptor  was  Amyot, 
the  translator  of  Plutarch,  had  an  inclination 
for  les  belles  lettres,  and  when  prevented  by 
weather  from  following  his  usual  open-air  sports 
would  send  for  the  poets  to  amuse  him,  and 
especially  the  poet  par  excellence  — "  le  prince 
des  poHes,''  ■ — the  licentious,  vain  and  intriguing 
Pierre  de  Ronsard.  Charles  even  wrote  a  couplet 
himself  now  and  then.  But  the  influence  of  the 
queen-mother  was  fatal  to  her  sons.  Her  crafty, 
bloodthirsty  nature  acted  as  a  blight, —  destroying 
every  germ  of  good  that  appeared  in  them. 

After  the  assassination  of  Henry  HI.  the 
Leaguers,  either  bribed  or  worn  by  their  suffer- 
ings during  the  siege  into  submission,  opened 
the  gates  of  Paris  to  Henry  IV.  ;  persecution 
then  ceased,  and  after  near  forty  years  of  civil 
warfare  both  Catholic  and  Huguenot  were  free 
to  breathe  in  peace, —  peace  which  the  king  be- 
lieved he  had  permanently  secured  to  the  latter 
when  he  signed  the  edict  of  Nantes.  A  rough, 
but  gay,  gallant  soldier,  the  greater  part  of 
whose   life    had    been    spent    in    the    camp,    and 


INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER  7 

who  when  not  making  war  was  with  the  same 
persistent  zeal  making  love,  Henry  was  no  great 
promoter  of  learning  or  liberal  patron  of  the  arts. 
He,  however,  very  sensibly  sent  the  royal  library 
to  Paris,  as  likely  to  be  more  useful  in  the  capital 
than  at  the  hunting-seat  of  Fontainebleau,  whither 
Francis  I.  had  transferred  it  from  Blois,  where 
Louis  XH.  had  placed  it  at  the  suggestion  of 
Anne  of  Brittany,  since  whose  time  it  had  been 
very  greatly  increased.  Henry's  especial  taste 
was  for  building  and  repairing,  and  but  for  the 
restraining  hand  of  Sully  he,  probably,  would 
further  have  extended  his  works  at  St.  Germain, 
Paris  and  Fontainebleau.  He  added  a  wing  to 
the  Tuileries,  built  the  Pavilion  de  Flore,  made 
some  progress  towards  connecting  the  Palace 
with  the  Louvre,  and  carried  out  several  improve- 
ments in  Paris.  He  employed  the  poet,  Malherbe, 
to  write  amatory  verses  and  to  extol  the  beauty 
of  his  mistresses.  He  could  dash  off  pleasant 
stanzas  himself,  and  very  flattering  billets  dcnix, 
when  inspired  by  the  charms  of  the  reigning 
belle  of  his  too  susceptible  heart. 

The  example  he  set  in  his  own  mode  of  life 
was  little  calculated  to  reform  the  morals  and 
manners  of  a  dissolute  court.  But  his  tolerant 
spirit,  his  gay  good-humour  and  apparent  frank 
bonhomie  in  his  relations  towards  his  people, 
contrasted  so  favourably  with  the  grinding 
tyranny  to  which,  as  if  mere   beasts  of  burden, 


8  INTRODUCTORY  CHAPTER 

they  had  been  subjected  by  former  rulers  or 
oppressors  of  France,  that  they  fully  atoned  in 
their  eyes  for  all  his  excesses  and  shortcomings, 
which  were  indeed  of  a  nature  —  such  was  the 
extreme  grossness  of  the  age  —  then  generally 
deemed  venial.  His  reign,  though  memorable 
in  itself,  was  but  as  the  first  greyness  of  dawn 
to  the  flush  of  the  opening  day,  the  misty  fore- 
runner of  an  age  of  intellectual  brilliancy  and 
social  refinement  —  "/^  grand  sihle  littirairc,'' 
which  attained  its  climax  towards  the  middle  of 
the  seventeenth  century. 


CHAPTER    II. 

The  14th  of  May,  1610. — Coronation  of  Marie  de  Medicis. — 
Royal  Procession  at  Saint  Denis.  —  Coronation  Fete. — 
Floral  Decoration  of  Old  Paris.  —  The  Bourgeois  King.- — 
Popularity  of  Henry  IV.  —  Henry  in  his  Fifty  -  seventh 
Year. — Angelique  Paulet.  — The  King's  Coach. — Assassina- 
tion of  Henry  IV.  —  Intense  Grief  of  the  People.  —  A 
Royal  Widow's  Weeds. — The  Child-king,  Louis  XIII. — 
The  Queen-regent's  Favourite. 

[T  was  the  14th  of  May,  1610.  Work- 
men to  the  number  of  eight  hundred, 
or  more,  were  employed  in  decorating 
the  old  city  of  Pari.s  for  a  grand  state  pageant, 
arranged  to  take  place  on  the  i6th.  Marie 
de  Medicis,  the  second  wife  of  Henry  IV., 
was  then  to  make  her  public  entry  into  the 
capital,  as  the  newly-crowned  Queen  of  France. 
Her  coronation,  so  long  earnestly  desired,  so  long 
delayed,  she  had  prevailed  on  the  king,  after  ten 
years  of  scolding  and  coaxing,  threatening  and 
entreating,  to  consent  to.  The  cherished  wish  of 
her  heart  was  obtained,  and  she  had  been  crowned 
with  the  utmost  pomp  and  solemnity,  on  the 
previous  day,  at  St.  Denis,  by  Cardinal  Joyeuse. 
Little  or  no  sympathy  or  affection  existed 
between    Marie    de    Medicis    and    her    husband. 

9 


lO  OLD   PAA'/S 

His  mistresses  —  less  by  their  beauty  than  by 
gaiety  and  good  -  humour  —  held  an  influence 
over  him  which  probably  she  herself  might  have 
acquired,  could  she  have  curbed  her  violent  tem- 
per. But  not  only  did  she  rave,  and  rage,  and 
assail  him  with  angry  words,  it  was  even  some- 
times necessary  to  restrain  her  from  the  too 
free  use  of  her  hands.  And  her  blows  were 
far  from  being  light  ones,  for,  as  Henry  once 
jestingly  said,  she  was  "terribly  robust."  From 
time  to  time  whispers  had  reached  her  of  the 
king's  intention  to  seek  a  divorce,  on  the  ground 
that  a  promise  of  marriage  given  in  years  gone 
by  to  the  Marquise  de  Verneuil,  invalidated  any 
subsequent  union  contracted  by  him.  Henry 
had  not  a  very  scrupulous  conscience,  but  these 
whispered  reports  originated  solely  with  the 
intriguing  marquise.  He  entertained,  at  least, 
a  kindly  feeling  towards  Marie,  notwithstanding 
her  attacks  upon  him,  and  publicly  paid  her  the 
respect  due  to  the  mother  of  the  Dauphin  of 
France. 

But  her  brow  had  cleared  since  it  had  been 
graced  by  a  crown.  She  was  radiant  with 
delight  ;  for  she  had  achieved  a  real  triumph,  — 
one  especially  gratifying  to  the  feelings  of  a 
woman  of  her  violent  and  vindictive  character,  — 
the  Marquise  de  Verneuil,  the  king's  mistress, 
and  the  Princesse  Marguerite  de  France,  his 
divorced    wife,    having    both    been    compelled    to 


ROYAL   PROCESSION  AT  ST.  DENIS  I  I 

witness  that  triumph  and  even  to  enhance  it, 
by  joining  the  train  of  ladies  appointed  by  Henry 
to  form  her  cortege.  Her  dark  Italian  eyes,  which 
so  often  flashed  with  angry  indignation  on  her 
faithless  spouse,  were  then  lighted  up  with  a 
gleam  of  proud  satisfaction  that  but  few  had 
observed  in  them  before, —  Henry,  never. 

The  king  had  taken  no  part  in  the  ceremony ; 
he  was  present  merely  as  a  spectator.  But 
when  the  royal  procession  passed  up  the  nave 
of  the  old  cathedral,  preceded  by  archbishops 
and  bishops  in  their  richest  vestments ;  the 
queen,  surrounded  by  the  noblest  and  fairest 
ladies  of  her  court,  and  arrayed  in  splendid 
robes  and  sparkling  gems,  that  well  became  her 
florid  complexion  and  portly  figure  (she  was  in 
her  thirty-seventh  year),  and  wearing  with  dignity 
the  royal  mantle,  —  which,  heavily  embroidered 
in  fleurs-de-lis  of  gold  and  pearls,  was  borne  by 
pages  of  honour,  —  Henry,  turning  towards  his 
minister  and  friend,  De  Sully,  exclaimed  in  an 
animated  tone:  ''Ventre  Saint  Gris ! — Quelle 
est  belle  !  " 

This  transitory  revelation  of  beauty,  due  to 
the  gratified  feeling  of  the  moment  and  the 
pomp  and  circumstance  of  royalty  that  sur- 
rounded her,  took  the  king  by  surprise. 

"  I  could  throw  myself  at  her  feet,"  he  con- 
tinued, —  after  he  had  gazed  long  and  steadfastly 
at  her,  and  had  replied  to  the  proud  glance  she 


12  OLD   PARIS 

cast  on  him  by  a  more  amorous  one  than  he  had 
ever  bestowed  on  her  before, —  "and  worship  her 
as  a  mistress,  if  I  had  not  the  misfortune  to  have 
her  for  a  wife." 

Henry  was  at  that  time  preparing  for  war, 
and  Marie,  under  the  guidance  of  Sully,  was 
to  be  regent  in  his  absence.  This  was  chiefly 
his  reason  for  consenting  to  her  coronation,  and 
for  the  proposed  great  eclat  to  be  given  to  her 
entry  into  Paris. 

The  narrow  streets  of  the  old  city  were  more 
than  usually  thronged  on  that  bright  May  morn- 
ing. The  Parisians  were  then,  as  now,  a 
pleasure -loving  people,  and  while  many  were 
busy  with  the  preparations  for  the  fete,  many 
more  were  amusing  themselves  by  looking  on. 
Public  fetes,  attended  by  any  great  pomp  and 
parade  of  which  the  state  defrayed  the  expense, 
were  not  numerous  in  Henry's  reign.  For  the 
prudent  Due  de  Sully,  who  held  the  state's 
purse-strings,  regarded  all  lavish  expenditure  of 
that  kind  as  throwing  money  into  the  streets, 
and  in  one  sense  so  it  literally  was.  But  on 
this  occasion,  the  enthusiastic  people  supplied  a 
bountiful  tribute  of  floral  decorations  to  mingle 
with  and  to  add  freshness  and  beauty  to  the 
tapestry  and  gold  of  the  state  and  the  banners 
and  emblems  of  the  various  religious  communities. 

The  fine  faqades  of  the  new  houses  in  the 
noble    Place    Royale    and    the    Place    Dauphine, 


FLORAL   DECORATIONS   OF  OLD  PARIS       1 3 

then  scarcely  completed  —  though  fashion  had 
already  sealed  the  former  for  her  favourite 
abode,  and  both  of  which  still  remain  the  most 
interesting  of  the  few  souvenirs  of  the  days  of 
Henry  IV.  that  modern  Paris  affords  —  were 
garlanded  and  festooned  as  if  for  a  fete  to  the 
goddess  of  Spring.  It  was  the  season  of  flowers  ; 
and  flowers  and  fruit,  as  an  old  writer  tells  us,* 
then  grew  in  such  abundance  in  the  surrounding 
fields  and  gardens  and  orchards,  that  "  they  were 
to  be  had  almost  for  nothing."  In  fact,  from 
the  Tour  de  Nesle,  where  the  Institute  now 
stands,  to  the  Porte  St.  Victor  ;  from  the  Place 
de  Carrousel  to  the  Porte  St.  Antoine ;  from 
the  Porte  du  Temple  to  the  Porte  Marceau  — • 
the  then  extreme  limits  of  Paris,  north  and 
south  of  the  Seine  —  the  manifold  defects  and 
desights  of  the  old  city  were  covered  with  a 
flower-gemmed  mantle. 

The  object  of  all  this  enthusiasm  was  the  king 
rather  than  the  queen.  The  people  delighted 
to  honour  him.  They  looked  upon  him  almost 
as  one  of  themselves  ;  as  a  bourgeois  king.  The 
vicissitudes  of  his  career  had,  indeed,  often 
brought  him  into  close  companionship  with 
many  of  the  hardships  and  privations  of  humble 
life,  and  he  was  r^ise  enough  to  be  able  to  turn 
this  experience  to  good  account.  But  at  no  time 
was  there  anything  of  the  bourgeois  in  Henry  IV. 

*  Sauval. 


14  OLD  PARIS 

He  had  been  a  hardy,  dashing  leader  of  troops ; 
gay  and  roistering,  and  without  much  dignity. 
When  he  unbuckled  his  sword,  he  cast  aside  for 
the  time  being  all  distinctions  of  rank,  and  sat 
down  to  be  jovial  and  to  enjoy  himself  with  his 
comrades  after  the  rough  manner  of  the  camp. 
But  he  was  greatly  changed  since  the  days  of 
"  La  belle  Gabrielle."  He  had  said  that  his  heart 
had  died  with  her,  and  that  he  could  love  no 
more.  And  perhajis  it  was  true  that  he  had 
never  loved  woman  as  he  had  loved  her,  though 
he  had  been  more  reckless  and  dissolute  since 
her  death,  and  to  the  crowning  folly  of  his  life 
was  about  to  add  its  crowning  scandal  by  entering 
upon  a  war  that  might  desolate  Europe  for  the 
sake  of  another  Helen, —  the  young  Princess  de 
Conde,  the  wife  of  his  nephew. 

Yet  no  king  of  France,  not  even  "  le  phr  de 
son  peiiple,''  the  far  more  deserving  Louis  XH., 
had  ever  been  so  popular  as  Henry  IV.  His 
disposition  was  humane ;  he  was  cruel  only  where 
the  preservation  of  game  was  in  question ;  for 
that  i^urpose  his  decrees  were  barbarous,  for  the 
chase  was  a  passion  with  him  when  the  excite- 
ment of  war  was  wanting.  Still,  with  all  his 
popularity,  faction  was  rife  in  the  country  and 
had  never  been  wholly  suppressed.  Even  then, 
as  now,  semi  -  barbarous  as  the  people  were, 
compared  with  their  present  intellectuality  and 
general  intelligence,  they  could  never  long  endure 


HENRY  IN  I/IS  FIFTY-SEVENTH    YEAR       I  5 

peaceably  and  voluntarily  the  yoke  of  any  ruler. 
And  this  effervescent  spirit  the  feudal  nobles,  to 
a  certain  extent,  encouraged,  each  being  intent 
on  maintaining  his  own  independence. 

This  ever-present  source  of  anxiety,  together 
with  other  cares  of  state,  domestic  infelicity, 
and  the  irregularities  of  his  life,  had  told  greatly 
upon  Henry,  both  physically  and  mentally,  dur- 
ing the  last  few  years.  The  gallant  bearing, 
the  sprightly  jests  that  once  distinguished  "the 
ugliest,  but  bravest  gentleman  in  France,"  were 
things  of  the  past.  Now,  in  his  fifty-seventh 
year,  his  deeply-wrinkled  face  had  become  mea- 
gre and  long ;  a  careworn  expression  was  almost 
habitual  to  it,  and  the  once  lively  eye  was 
sunken  and  lustreless.  His  shoulders  were  bowed, 
as  with  the  heavy  weight  of  years  ;  his  hair,  once 
black  and  wavy,  hung  lank  round  his  face,  and, 
like  his  Huguenot  beard,  was  bleached  as  with 
the  snows  of  a  wintry  old  age.  His  whole 
appearance  was  as  of  one  who  had  been  buffeted 
by  the  storms  of  life  for  the  full  span  of  the 
allotted  threescore  years  and  ten. 

Notwithstanding  these  disadvantages,  the  king 
was  then  laying  siege  to  the  heart  of  Made- 
moiselle Angelique  Paulet.  And  as  he  was 
always  better  pleased,  rough  soldier  though  he 
was,  "  by  a  conquest  in  love  than  a  conquest 
in  war,  and  from  the  universal  homage  he  paid 
to   woman   still   succeeded   in   pleasing    the   fair 


l6  OLD   PARIS 

sex  generally,"  it  is  probable  that,  had  he  lived, 
the  new  flame  might  have  abated  the  ardour  of 
the  preceding  one,  and  the  meditated  war  have 
been  abandoned. 

On  the  morning  of  the  14th  of  May,  Henry 
had  visited  the  beautiful  Angelique  Paulet. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  the  state  secretary 
who  originated  the  tax,  named  after  him,  "  La 
Paulette."  The  king,  ^^ pour  viotiver  sa  vistte," 
had  with  him  his  eldest  son,  the  young  due, 
Cesar  de  Vendome,  to  introduce  him  to  this 
fascinating  young  lady.  She  has  been  de- 
scribed as  receiving  her  royal  visitors  "  seated 
on  a  sofa  of  scarlet  brocatelle,  and  wearing  a 
morning-dress  of  blue  silk.  Part  of  her  hair, 
which  was  of  a  deep  golden  colour,  was  twisted 
with  a  string  of  pearls  and  a  blue  riband,  and 
part  fell  in  long  curls  on  her  shoulders.  The 
dress  was  made  high,  but  open  at  the  throat, 
displaying  a  necklace  of  diamonds  set  in  gold, 
with  a  border  of  black  enamel.  Her  sleeves 
were  looped  back  with  blue  ribands,  and  her 
bracelets  were  of  the  same  pattern  as  the  neck- 
lace." This  fair  damsel,  who  was  but  seventeen, 
had  won  the  admiration  of  the  king  by  her 
graceful  dancing  and  exquisite  singing,  in  a 
''ballet  de  la  reiiie,'"  danced  by  the  court  at 
the  Louvre.  Mademoiselle  Angelique  Paulet 
some  years  after  was  one  of  the  celebrities  of 
the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet. 


THE   KING'S   COACH  1 7 

Later  in  the  day,  the  king  had  a  fancy  to  see 
how  the  preparations  for  the  i6th  were  progress- 
ing. He  was  accompanied  in  his  coach  by  the 
Due  d'Epernon,  and  three  or  four  other  nobles. 
It  was  seldom  he  used  a  coach,  owing,  it  has 
been  said,  to  a  superstitious  presentiment  of 
evil  likely  to  befall  him  in  one.  But  it  seems 
scarcely  necessary  to  assign  superstition  as  his 
objection  to  using  a  coach,  when  we  remember 
what  sort  of  vehicles  the  Paris  coachbuilders 
then  produced.  They  were  small  open  rooms 
(no  glass  windows),*  either  set  without  springs 
on  a  frame  with  four  immensely  large  wheels, 
or  suspended  to  long  spokes  by  broad  leathern 
bands.  Thus,  with  a  fair  prospect  of  dislo- 
cation to  the  limbs  of  the  occupant,  these 
unwieldy  constructions  went  jolting  or  swing- 
ing over  the  ups  and  downs  formed  by  the 
mounds  of  dirt  that  impeded  their  progress 
in  the  wretchedly -paved  and  unpaved  streets 
of  the  old  city.  And  it  required  dexterous 
handling  on  the  part  of  the  driver  to  guide 
the  four  or  six  horses  attached  to  these  cum- 
brous conveyances,  so  as  to  avoid  collisions  in 
the  narrow  and  tortuous  thoroughfares.  But, 
luckily,  coaches  were  not  yet  numerous,  and  only 


*  Glass  windows  were  not  used  until  the  time  of  Louis 
XIV.,  who  sent  a  coach  so  furnished  to  England,  as  a  present 
to  Charles  II. 


18  OLD   PARIS 

the  very  rich  could  afford  to  take  an  airing  in 
that  stately  and  comfortless  fashion.* 

It  was  an  unexpected  obstruction  by  carts  that 
afforded  Ravaillac  the  opportunity  of  taking  the 
king's  life.  Preparations  for  the/^/<?  had  occa- 
sioned the  employment  of  an  unusual  number  of 
carts,  and  the  royal  equipage  was  brought  to  a 
standstill  by  two  of  them  on  that  spot  in  the 
Rue  St.  Honore  (known  to  most  persons  who 
have  visited  Paris)  which  then  formed  the  corner 
of  the  narrow  Rue  de  la  Ferronnerie.  There, 
during  the  momentary  confusion  that  ensued,  the 
vile  purpose  of  the  assassin  was  but  too  fatally 
accomplished.  He  mounted  the  projecting  steps 
of  the  coach,  leaned  far  into  it,  and  twice,  with 
a  dagger,  furiously  attacked  the  king  ;  the  second 
time  piercing  his  heart. 

Henry  fell  dead  into  the  arms  of  the  Due 
d'Epernon.  It  was  endeavoured  temporarily  to 
persuade  the  populace  that  the  king,  though 
wounded,  was  not  dead,—  but  in  vain ;  the  fact 
of  his  assassination  and  the  capture  of  the 
assassin  spread  rapidly  through  the  city. 

*  Sauval  ( Antiqziites  de  Paris)  says  that  he  had  been  told  by 
a  ceitain  ancient  dame  —  Madame  Pilon  —  that  there  were  no 
coaches  in  Paris  until  after  the  time  of  the  League,  some  sixteen 
years  before  Henry's  death,  and  that  the  first  person  to  appear 
in  one  was  a  relative  of  her  own,  the  daughter  of  an  apothecary 
of  the  Rue  St.  Antoine,  who  had  inherited  a  large  fortune,  and 
who  was  ambitious  of  distinguishing  herself  as  a  woman  of 
fashion. 


INTENSE    GRIEF  OF   THE   PEOPLE  1 9 

The  chancellor,  sitting  in  his  apartment  in  the 
Louvre,  hearing  a  great  commotion  amongst  the 
soldiers  on  duty,  called  to  the  officer  on  guard  : 

"  Capitaine,  qii  est-ce  done  que  ee  fraeas  d'armes 
et  de  soldats  de  garde  ?  " 

''  Monsetgneiir,'"  replied  the  officer,  in  a  tone  of 
the  deepest  emotion,  ^'  c\^st  que  le  roi  est  mort !'' 

"  Mort !  Ah  !  savez-vons  ee  que  vons  dites  a  ? 
Et  le  ehaneelier  lui  pressa  les  mains,  le  regardant 
d'nn  air  d'inqniHe  mmace!'-^ 

A  wail  of  mad  despair  ran  through  the  land 
—  grief  so  intense  that  it  became  rage  in  its 
hopelessness.  Yet,  when  the  tragic  death  of  the 
king  was  made  known  to  the  queen,  she  heard 
the  sad  news  with  exceeding  calmness  ;  though 
it  had  been  revealed  to  her  with  fear,  lest  it 
should  afflict  her  too  deeply. 

"  Elle  ne  parict^''  says  Renault,  "  ;//  assez  sur- 
prise fii  assez  afflige'e^ 

She  seemed  even  elated  with  the  thought  that 
great  power  had  fallen  into  her  hands. 

Sully  and  other  friends  of  Henry  IV.  became 
suspicious  of  the  queen,  of  the  Due  d'Epernon, 
of  Monsieur  le  Prince,  and  ventured  to  inquire 
of  each  other  whether  they  who  were  to  profit  by 
this  crime  were  not  in  fact  its  authors  1 

Henry  was  assassinated  at  about  four  in  the 
afternoon.  By  six,  the  queen  and  the  Due 
d'Epernon  had  taken  all  the   necessary  steps   to 

*Vie  MS.  de  Louis  XIII. 


20  OLD  PARIS 

secure  the  decree  of  the  parliament  declaring  her 
regent.  The  ceremony  of  the  previous  day,  by 
an  extraordinary  coincidence,  had  given  her  the 
right  to  claim  it.  On  the  15th  she  appeared  in 
the  flowing  black  robes  of  a  royal  widow  (as  first 
worn  in  France  by  Anne  of  Brittany),  with  a  veil 
of  gauze  taffetas  reaching  to  her  feet,  and  a  full- 
plaited  ruche  of  white  gauze  encircling  her  throat, 
the  ends  fastening  in  front  like  a  scarf,  with  bows 
of  black  riband.  Long  Venetian  sleeves,  looped 
back,  displayed  the  beauty  of  her  arms,  while  the 
freshness  of  her  complexion  was  becomingly  sub- 
dued by  the  white  ruche  and  the  flowing  gauze 
drapery  of  her  veil. 

Thus  attired  she  proceeded  to  Les  Augus- 
tines,  where  the  parliament,  on  account  of  the 
expected  fete,  had  assembled.  She  led  by  the 
hand  the  little  king,  Louis  XIIL,  then  eight  years 
and  a  half  old.  He  wore  a  violet  velvet  dress  and 
a  plumed  hat  of  the  same  colour ;  thus  giving 
much  effect  to  the  sombre  but  graceful  robes 
of  his  mother.  Her  appearance  made  a  great 
impression  on  the  assembly,  and  it  was  generally 
acknowledged  that  she  had  never,  even  at  her 
coronation,  appeared  to  greater  advantage.  While 
speaking  of  the  assassination  of  the  king  she  ex- 
cited sympathy  by  the  abundance  of  her  tears  ; 
and  she  is  said  to  have  been  a  woman  of  such 
violent  emotions  that  the  v^ehemence  of  her  weep- 
ing was  something  startling. 


THE    CHILD-KING   LOUIS  XIII.  2  1 

The  regency  was  conferred  on  her  with  full  and 
absolute  powers,  also  the  guardianship  of  the 
young  king,  who,  at  her  request,  was  required  to 
give  his  viva  voce  approval  in  confirmation  of  the 
decree  of  the  parliament. 

The  tragic  manner  of  the  death  of  Henry  IV. 
had  deeply  impressed  the  child-king.  This  im- 
pression was  deepened  by  the  energetic  words  of 
his  mother  on  this  occasion,  and  the  indignation 
and  horror,  the  grief  and  resentment  evinced  by 
the  parliament  when  referring  to  the  wretched 
Ravaillac  and  his  infamous  deed.'  A  dread  of 
being  assassinated  took  possession  of  the  mind  of 
the  youthful  Louis,  and  remained  with  him 
through  life,  rendering  him  suspicious  and  unjust, 
and  often  strangely  affecting  his  conduct. 

With  the  regency  of  Marie  de  Medicis  began  an 
entirely  new  order  of  things,  both  social  and 
political.  Italian  favourites  were  in  the  ascendant. 
Concini,  transformed  into  a  Frenchman,  as  Le 
Marechal  d'Ancre,  succeeded,  without  either  expe- 
rience or  capability,  to  the  important  posts  held 
for  so  many  years  by  the  Due  de  Sully  ;  and  the 
millions  of  livres  that  prudent  minister  had 
amassed  for  the  exigencies  of  the  state  passed 
into  the  prodigal  hands  of  the  queen-regent. 


CHAPTER   III. 


Paris  at  the  time  of  Henry  IV.'s  Death.  —  The  Hotel  Saint 
Paul.  —  The  New  Louvre.  —  The  Hotel  de  Soissons. — 
Henry  III.'s  Vow. —  Huguenot  and  Catholic.  —  Enlarge- 
ment of  the  Tuileries.  —  L'Hotel  de  Ville.  —  Le  Pont 
Neuf.  —  La  Samaritaine. — A  Capucine  Convent.  —  Saint 
Vincent  de  Paul. 


|ARIS  at  the  time  of  Henry  IV.'s  death 
did  not  extend  beyond  the  limits  with- 
in which  Charles  V.  had  fortified  it, 
about  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century,  after 
having  recovered  the  greater  part  of  the  domin- 
ions taken  from  his  father,  King  John,  by 
Edward  HI.  and  the  Black  Prince.  These 
fortifications  crossed  the  present  Place  de  Car- 
rousel, enclosing  the  old  Louvre,  built  by 
Philippe  Auguste  as  a  royal  residence  in  the 
early  part  of  the  thirteenth  century.  The  Louvre 
was  a  feudal  castle  —  the  royal  donjon-keep.  It 
stood,  until  the  time  of  Charles  V.,  outside  the 
city  walls.  Its  deep  moats  were  supplied  from 
the  Seine,  and  it  was  provided  with  every  means 
that  the  military  art  of  the  day  made  needful  for 
resistance  and  defence.  Sauval  gives  full  details 
of  these  repairs,  additions,  and  embellishments  of 
Charles    V.,    by    which    the    extent,  the    interest 


THE  HdTEL   ST.   PAUL  23 

and  importance  of  the  Louvre  appear  to  have 
been  much  increased. 

John  of  France  possessed  a  library  of  twenty 
volumes ;  his  son  increased  it  to  nine  hundred, 
placed  it  in  "Z«  To2ir  de  la  Librairie,''  and  thus 
became  the  founder  of  the  Bibliotheque  Royale 
de  France. 

But  while  the  old  fortress  of  Philippe  Auguste 
was  undergoing  repair,  a  less  dreary  abode  was 
in  course  of  construction  for  Charles.  It  was 
the  Hotel  St.  Paul,  a  perfect  vmison  de  plaisance. 
Its  site  is  indicated  by  the  present  Rue  and  Ouai 
St.  Paul  and  Ouai  St.  Martin.  It  had  neither 
moat,  battlement,  nor  arquebuse  to  defend  it ; 
the  near  neighbourhood  of  the  Bastille  being 
thought  sufficient  protection.  The  gmiide  salle 
was  a  splendid  apartment,  with  a  finely-carved 
ceiling  and  painted  walls.  There  were  chapels 
and  galleries,  with  painted  glass  windows,  and 
numerous  spacious  apartments.  On  three  sides 
extensive  gardens  and  grounds  surrounded  it. 
They  were  planted  with  trees  and  shrubs,  form- 
ing thickets  and  groves,  with  clumps  of  fruit- 
trees  and  patches  of  vegetables ;  park,  orchard, 
kitchen  and  flower  garden  combined.  There 
were  dove-cots,  fowl-houses,  and  fish-ponds  ;  two 
fountains  and  a  menagerie,  and  a  pleasant  green 
slope  that  led  down  to  the  river.  Above  all, 
there  was  a  spacious  court  where  tournaments 
and  other  sports  took  place. 


24  OLD   PARIS 

Another  royal  dwelling,  the  Palais  des  Tour- 
nelles,  turreted  and  fortified,  became,  after 
Charles  V.'s  death,  the  favourite  abode  of  roy- 
alty. The  Hotel  St.  Paul  fell  to  ruin ;  its 
gardens  lay  waste,  and  were  afterwards  built 
upon  —  such  names  as  Rue  de  la  Cerisaie, 
Beautreillis,  Petit  Pare,  etc.,  being  still  existing 
traces  of  the  ground  they  occupied.  The  old 
Louvre  having  suffered  greatly  in  the  wars  with 
the  English,  its  demolition  was  ordered  by  Francis 
L,  who  laid  the  first  stone  of  the  present  mag- 
nificent edifice. 

The  new  Louvre  that  was  to  occupy  the  site 
of  the  frowning  old  fortress  was  intended,  as 
originally  planned  by  Francis  L,  for  a  then 
modern  and  commodious  royal  dwelling.  The 
works  were  but  little  advanced  when  Francis 
died,  but  they  progressed  so  rapidly  under  Henry 
n.  that  his  widow,  Catherine  de  Medicis,  on 
assuming  the  regency,  left  the  unhealthy  and 
already  condemned  Palais  des  Tournelles,  and 
established  her  court  at  the  Louvre.  Its 
advancement  was  slow  during  the  strife  and 
bloodshed  of  the  Medicis  period;  and  besides, 
Catherine  had  determined  on  building  a  new 
palace  contiguous  to  the  Louvre,  but  outside 
the  fortifications,  on  the  vacant  ground  long 
used  as  tuileries,  or  brickfields.  The  architects 
she  employed  were  Jean  Bullant  and  Philibert 
Delorme,    whose    extensive    design    was    carried 


THE   HOTEL   DE   SOISSONS  25 

out  only  as  far  as  the  faqade.  For  during  the 
erection  of  the  Palace  of  the  Tuileries,  Cathe- 
rine gave  up  the  intention  of  residing  there,  and 
employed  Bullant  to  build  her  another  residence, 
which  was  afterwards  known  as  L' Hotel  de 
Soissons,  and  on  whose  site  now  stands  the 
rotottde  of  the  Halle-au-ble  with  its  surround- 
ing streets.  There,  on  the  summit  of  Bullant's 
beautifully  sculptured  and  lofty  Doric  column, 
—  the  sculpture  defaced  at  the  Revolution  of 
'89, —  Catherine  and  her  astrologers  studied  the 
starry  heavens  and  the  course  of  the  constella- 
tions, and  sought  to  read  in  the  movements  of 
the  celestial  orbs  a  motive  or  excuse  for  the 
deeds  of  darkness  and  blood  by  which  she 
desolated   France. 

The  alterations  or  improvements  that  Paris 
had  undergone  during  two  centuries  and  a  half 
had  been  made  strictly  within  the  walls,  an 
inclination  to  spread  beyond  them  in  the  time 
of  Francis  L  having  been  checked  by  a  decree 
of  the  parliament  interdicting  the  erection  of 
any  new  houses  in  the  faubourgs  and  the  repa- 
ration of  those  falling  to  decay.  Without  some 
stringent  measure  of  this  sort  it  was  feared 
that  the  provinces  would  be  depopulated,  and 
overgrown  Paris  became  a  chef-lieu,  menacing 
in  times  of  sedition  to  the  rest  of  the  kingdom, 
and  capable  of  even  bidding  defiance  to  its 
sovereign;    as    indeed    it    did    some    fifty    years 


26  OLD  PARIS 

later,  at  the  time  of  the  League.  Then,  Henry 
III.,  apostrophizing  it  as  "  CJief  du  royaiime, 
chef  trop  gros,"  vowed  the  vain  vow,  as  he  pre- 
pared to  besiege  it,  that  when  subdued,  he 
would  so  thoroughly  raze  it  from  the  face  of 
the  earth  that  not  one  stone  of  its  buildings 
should  be  left  upon  another  to  mark  the  spot 
where  the  rebellious  city  had  stood. 

As  the  population  increased,  new  streets  were 
made  narrower,  and  the  houses  higher — the 
result  of  this  crowding  and  huddling  together 
being  frequent  outbreaks  of  sickness  and  pes- 
tilence. To  escape  from  the  impure  air  of  the 
city  was  Catherine's  motive  for  building  a  palace 
outside  the  walls.  She  had  suffered  greatly  in 
her  health  at  Les  Tournelles,  and  the  Louvre 
itself  was  then  closely  surrounded  by  squalid 
fever-stricken  streets.  The  demolition  of  Les 
Tournelles  was  a  real  boon  to  the  Parisians. 
It  occupied  with  its  walls,  bastions,  towers  and 
ditches,  a  large  tract  of  ground,  which  when 
cleared  was  disposed  of,  together  with  that 
covered  by  its  extensive  walled  parks  and  gar- 
dens, by  public  sale.  New  streets,  new  churches, 
new  bridges  were  planned ;  but  beyond  the  plan- 
ning little  was  done.  The  arts  of  peace  could 
not  flourish,  for  there  was  no  repose  in  the 
country.  The  long  struggle  between  Huguenot 
and  Catholic  had  filled  men's  minds  with 
murderous    passions.      Each    one    suspected    his 


ENLARGEMENT  OF    THE    TUILERIES         2/ 

neighbour,  and  to  be  suspected  of  heresy  was 
to  have  every  man's  hand  against  him. 

Then  came  the  League,  with  its  incredible 
misery,  sufferings  and  crimes.  Catherine  de 
Medicis  dies,  Henry  III.  is  assassinated ;  but 
the  end  of  the  struggle  is  not  yet.  Through- 
out the  land  fanaticism  raises  her  voice  to 
heaven,  and  wildly  shrieks,  "  Let  France  be 
saved  from  the  greatest  of  all  calamities,  sub- 
mission to  a  Huguenot  king."  But  Henry  is 
not  deterred  by  trifles.  "A  kingdom,"  he 
declares,  "is  worth  a  Mass."  Mass  is  said,  and 
he  is  installed  in  his  capital,  and  takes  up  his 
abode  at  the  Louvre.  Henry  would  have  pre- 
ferred the  Tuileries,  but  found  it  too  small 
conveniently  to  accommodate  his  court.  The 
architect,  Jacques  Androuet  Ducerceau,  was, 
therefore,  directed  to  furnish  plans  for  the  new 
wing  and  pavilion,  and  immediately  to  proceed 
with  the  further  extension  of  the  grande  galerie 
of  the  Louvre  —  begun  during  the  regency  of 
Catherine.  His  purpose  was  to  connect  it  with 
the  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  for  the  king  did 
not  feel  quite  secure  in  his  capital.  And, 
according  to  Sauval,  he  was  then  very  desirous 
of  keeping  open  for  himself  a  way  of  leaving 
Paris,  in  case  of  emergency,  without  being  at 
the  mercy  of  the  populace,  as  his  predecessor 
had  been. 

But   as   faction    in    a    great    degree    ceased    to 


28  OLD   PARIS 

exist,  and  the  religious  fervour  and  religious  hate 
of  both  Catholic  and  Huguenot  calmed  down, 
Henry  IV.  became  a  popular  king.  His  wish 
(or  the  expression  attributed  to  him)  that  every 
poor  man  had  a  fat  capon  to  put  in  his  weekly 
pot-au-fc2i,  appears  to  have  gratified  the  poor 
man  almost  as  much  as  the  gift  of  the  capon 
itself  would  have  done.  "  Smiling  peace "  was 
soon  followed  by  plenty,  for  the  lands  around 
Paris,  both  to  the  north  and  the  south,  were  so 
fertile,  that  with  little  culture  (to  quote  Sauval 
again)  they  produced  wheat  in  abundance,  and  all 
sorts  of  grain.  Fruit  was  exceedingly  plentiful, 
and  "  the  vine  grew  and  produced  fruit  luxu- 
riantly, so  that  these  lands  might  with  reason 
be  called  the  granary  and  the  cellar  of  France." 
The  improvements  in  Paris  were  numerous  during 
Henry's  reign.  The  arsenal  was  completed;  the 
Hotel  de  Ville  also.  Its  western  facade,  arcades, 
and  some  other  portions,  formed  part  of  the 
enlarged  edifice  destroyed  by  the  Parisian  pop- 
ulace during  their  last  insane  raid  on  the  archi- 
tectural glories  of  their  city.  The  splendid 
staircase,  some  sculptured  doors  and  ceilings, 
and  the  fine  monumental  chimney-pieces  in 
the  throne-room,  still  remained  of  the  interior 
arrangements  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville  of  the  time 
of  Henry  IV. 

The  Pont  Neuf  was  also  finished ;  it  was  then 
a  very  fine  structure,  with  elaborately  sculptured 


LA    SAMARITAINE  29 

cornices,  portions  of  which  have  been  thought 
worthy  of  preservation  in  the  Hotel  de  Cluny. 
Spanning  the  Seine  where  the  two  arms  of  the 
river  unite,  the  length  of  the  bridge  gave  it  an 
imposing  appearance,  and  it  was  then  the  only 
one  without  houses.  Half-way  across  it  was 
erected  the  famous  fountain,  or  pump,  called 
"  La  Samaritaine."  Two  life-size  figures  in  gilt 
bronze,  of  Christ  and  the  woman  of  Samaria, 
sculptured  by  Germain  Pilon,  stood  under  a 
pavilion,  and  on  either  side  of  a  large  gilt 
basin,  into  which  flowed  a  stream  of  water  that 
was  conveyed  through  a  reservoir  to  the  Louvre, 
On  the  top  of  the  pavilion  was  a  sun-dial,  and, 
above  that,  a  clock  with  chimes  and  small  gilt 
figures,  which  struck  the  hours.  The  keeper,  or 
guardian,  of  this  edifice,  bore  the  official  title 
of  "  Gouverneur  de  la  Samaritaine,"  and  was 
allowed  a  good  house  close  by  for  his  residence. 
To  keep  the  whole  bright  and  in  good  working 
order,  it  was  necessary  frequently  to  regild  the 
figures  and  repair  the  works.  "The  governor" 
was  also  an  expensive  personage,  whose  duties 
were  performed  by  deputy.  The  Revolution  of 
1789  suppressed  him ;  and,  as  in  the  case  of  more 
valuable  mementoes  of  old  Paris,  the  wretched 
mob  greatly  injured  the  ancient  fountain,  and 
defaced  the  figures  of  Christ  and  the  Samaritan 
woman.  Its  machinery,  its  curious  clock  and 
famous  chimes,  were  the  work  of  Jean   Lintlaer, 


30  OLD   PARIS 

a  Flemish  mechanician.  The  last  vestiges  of  its 
ruined  pavilion  were  removed  from  the  bridge  in 
1803. 

We  hardly  expect  to  hear  of  Henry  IV.  found- 
ing a  convent,  yet  that  of  the  severe  order 
of  Capucine  nuns  owed  its  foundation  to  him. 
He  was  stimulated  to  this  act  of  piety,  it  has 
been  supposed,  by  a  priest  sent  by  Pope  Paul 
V.  on  a  secret  mission  to  the  king,  who  was  so 
much  pleased  with  the  papal  envoy  that  he 
conferred  frequently  and  privately  with  him. 
The  priest,  like  the  king,  was  a  Gascon ;  riiscy 
and  with  the  same  disposition  to  banter,  though 
of  course  more  under  control.  Unfavourable 
rumours  were  then  afloat  respecting  the  sin- 
cerity of  the  king's  adhesion  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  faith.  His  jovial  air,  and  the  little 
devotion  his  manner  displayed  when  assisting 
at  the  services  of  the  Church,  had  always  kept 
doubt  alive.  But  now  he  founds  a  convent  of 
Capucine  nuns !  Some  good  souls  thankfully 
accepted  the  act  as  a  proof  of  their  monarch's 
orthodoxy.  To  others  it  seemed  more  like  a 
satire  on  his  own  mode  of  life;  while  not  a  few 
found  a  stumbling-block  to  their  faith  in  him  in 
his  persistent  retention   of  the   Huguenot  beard. 

"If,"  they  said,  "it  was  a  concession  to  the 
aggrieved  feelings  of  his  heretic  subjects,  it 
proved  him  to  be  but  a  lukewarm  Catholic,  or 
at   least   one    who    had    not    the    courage    of    his 


SAINT    VINCENT  DE   PAUL  3  I 

convictions.  The  Huguenots,  however,  drew  a 
hope  from  his  continuance  to  wear  it,  that  their 
renegade  chief  might  yet  be  of  the  number  of 
the  predestined." 

That  he  wore  it  from  habit,  or  because  he 
Hked  it,  seems  not  to  have  occurred  to  either 
party.  It  was  no  doubt  the  cause  of  more  than 
one  of  the  many  fanatical  attempts  to  assassi- 
nate him,  while  a  burning  desire  to  avenge  the 
dishonour  his  dissolute  life  had  brought  on  some 
families  instigated  others.  Whether  the  priest 
really  suggested  the  convent,  either  in  expiatior, 
of  past  misdeeds,  or  as  a  politic  act  at  the  time, 
cannot  be  confidently  asserted.  He  was  then  an 
unknown  priest,  but  in  the  following  reign  he 
exercised  extraordinary  influence  in  Paris,  and 
many  of  its  religious  institutions  and  charities 
were  due  to  him.  He  was  a  jocular,  wily  priest. 
He  did  much  good,  and  some  little  harm,  and 
used  to  say,  laughingly :  "  Que  pcrsonnc  ne  savait 
mieux  rcniucv  Ics  ecus  dans  les  pocJics  des  riches y 
He  was  known  then  as  M.  Vincent  —  now,  as  a 
Saint,  St.  Vincent  de  Paul. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Statesmen  and  Generals.  —  Poets  and  Satirists.  —  Marie  de 
Medicis.  —  The  Poet  Malherbe.  —  The  Joys  of  Heaven. 
—  Ogier  de  Gombauld.  —  Religious  Novels.  —  "Astree," 
a  Pastoral  Allegory.  —  Boileau's  Opinion  of  "Astree."  — 
The  lovelorn  Marquis  d'Urfe.  —  Diane  de  Chateaunor- 
mand.  —  A  gentle  Shepherd  and  Shepherdess.  —  Death 
of  the  Shepherd.  —  "  Les  Amours  du  Grand  Alcandre." 

fOST  of  the  distinguished  men  who  shed 
lustre  on  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV., 
whether  as  statesmen,  generals,  men 
of  letters,  poets,  painters,  etc.,  as  well  as  the 
prose  writers  of  both  sexes,  were  born  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.,  or  during 
that  of  Louis  XIII.  Side  by  side  with  the  great 
vices  of  those  reigns,  the  talent  and  genius  that 
were  so  fully  developed  under  the  regency  of 
Anne  of  Austria  and  the  first  years  of  the  reign 
of  Louis  XIV.,  gradually  budded  and  expanded. 
Even  those  literary  celebrities  of  the  latter  years 
of  the  century,  who  were  most  free  from  that 
spirit  of  adulation  which  grew  out  of  Louis' 
belief  in  himself  as  a  demi-god,  at  least,  and 
which  fettered  the  genius  of  such  men  as  Racine, 
and  made  the  muse  of  Moliere  the  apologist  of  the 
vices    of    the    monarch,   were    formed    under  the 


Ibenr^  IflD. 


POETS   AND   SATIRISTS  33 

auspices,  or  after  the  example,  of  their  predeces- 
sors who  had  flourished  under  the  regency.  To 
achieve  success  under  the  "Grand  Monarque," 
it  was  far  less  necessary  to  merit  it  than  to  secure 
his  favour,  and  this  could  only  be  done  by  chant- 
ing paeans  of  praise  in  his  honour,  and  offering 
the  incense  of  flattery  at  his  shrine,  amidst  the 
gross  fumes  of  which  genius  was  too  often 
stifled. 

Beyond  learned  treatises  on  dry,  dreary  sub- 
jects, and  no  less  dreary  and  voluminous  theo- 
logical writings,  there  was  little  or  no  literature  in 
the  time  of  Henry  IV.,  but  licentious  poems  and 
satires.  But  such  writers  who  did  take  this 
lighter  pen  in  hand,  employed  it,  both  in  that 
and  the  succeeding  reign,  far  more  frequently  to 
satirize  and  lecture  the  king  than  to  flatter  him. 
And  Henry,  especially,  took  this  freedom  of 
speech  in  good  part.  If,  incorrigible  sinner  as  he 
was,  his  morals  were  not  improved  by  it,  he,  at 
all  events,  was  amused.  For  he  is  said  often  to 
have  read  these  productions,  and  greatly  to  have 
enjoyed  such  fun  as  there  was  in  them,  but 
never  attempted  to  restrain  the  excessive  license 
of  the  writers.  Such  toleration  must  have  had  a 
beneficial  influence  on  the  authors  of  that  higher 
caste  of  literature  which  succeeded  the  "journals 
and  satires"  of  Henry's  day.  The  dramatist  or 
poet  could  more  freely  give  the  rein  to  imagina- 
tion, and  infuse  more  real  spirit  and  verve  into  his 


34  OLD   PARIS 

subject  when  untrammeled  by  the  necessity  of 
portraying,  disguised  under  the  name  of  some 
hero  of  antiquity,  the  hypothetical  virtues  and 
perfections  of  a  pompous  and  .vainglorious  royal 
patron. 

When  Marie  de  Medicis  was  invested  with  abso- 
lute powers,  and  began  her  stormy  career  as 
queen-regent,  she  distributed  pensions  and  places 
and  titles  with  a  very  lavish  hand,  in  order  to 
gain  over  to  her  interests  those  friends  of  Henry 
who  were  opposed  to  her  assumption  of  the  re- 
gency. But  in  immediately  bestowing  a  pension 
of  five  hundred  ecus  upon  Malherbe,  she  was 
prompted  by  a  higher  appreciation  of  the  merits 
of  the  poet  than  Henry  was  capable  of.  She  was 
ambitious,  not  only  of  governing  France,  but  of 
governing  grandly  ;  and  her  ideas  were  grand 
though  she  had  no  grandeur  in  her  character,  and 
possessed  none  of  the  qualities  for  judiciously  gov- 
erning. She  desired  popularity,  but  was  defi- 
cient in  the  tact  necessary  to  acquire  it,  and  had 
no  winning  graciousness  or  charm  in  her  man- 
ners ;  but  in  her  love  of  the  Muses  and  les  beaux 
arts,  she  was  a  true  daughter  of  the  Medici. 

Malherbe  has  been  called  "  the  father  of  modern 
French  poetry."  His  odes  and  sonnets  are  often 
licentious  in  tone,  as  were  the  manners  of  the 
age,  but  there  is  a  grace  and  charm  in  much  of 
his  verse  due  to  the  perfection  and  purity  with 
which  he  wrote    the    French    language.      Boileau 


THE   POET  MALHERBE  35 

considered  Malherbe  the  first  French  author  whose 
writings  afforded  an  example  of  "■  the  power  of 
words  rightly  placed."  Though  a  Court  poet, 
Malherbe  was  poor.  Henry  very  parsimoniously 
repaid  the  laureate's  graceful  and  frequently 
charming  stanzas,  idealizing  the  attractions  of  the 
belles,  both  bnmes  and  blondes,  by  whom  his  royal 
master  by  turns  was  enslaved.  When,  sonnet  in 
hand,  the  poor  poet -appeared  before  the  king,  he 
is  said  almost  to  have  asked  an  alms  for  it. 

Malherbe's  known  sensitiveness  to  any  deviation 
from  the  purity  of  the  language,  when  spoken  as 
well  as  written,  is  shown  by  an  anecdote  told  of 
him,  whether  it  be  strictly  true  or  not.  He  had 
been  prevailed  on,  when  near  his  end,  to  be  con- 
fessed by  a  priest.  The  good  father  afterwards 
proceeded  to  expatiate,  in  language  neither  classi- 
cal nor  poetical,  on  the  joys  awaiting  the  dying 
man  in  heaven.  Malherbe  listened,  evidently 
much  disturbed  in  mind.  The  priest  attributed 
it  to  conscience  awakened  by  his  eloquence,  and 
became  more  earnest,  and,  as  he  thought,  more 
impressive.  The  old  poet  could  endure  it  no 
longer.  Raising  himself  in  his  bed,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Improve  your  style,  sir !  You  have  disgusted 
me  with  the  joys  of  heaven!"  then  fell  back  ex- 
hausted on  his  pillow.  An  old  nurse  sat  by  the 
bedside  ;  she  had  been  much  edified  to  hear  of  the 
joys  of  heaven.  Now  she  rose,  looked  sadly  at 
the  priest,  and  whispered,  "  Poor  man  !  poor  man  ! 


36  OLD   PARIS 

His  head  is  quite  gone,  sir.  Only  an  hour  ago 
he  raved  at  me,  even  worse,  sir,  even  worse,  and 
called  out,  '  Who  is  your  authority  for  that  word  ? ' 
though  I  spoke  to  him  quite  kind  and  civil.  Poor 
man,  his  head  is  gone  !  " 

Another  protege  of   Marie  de  Medicis  (no  poet 
of  that  day  was  without  his  patron)  was  the  poet 
and  epigrammatist,  Ogier  de  Gombauld.     He  was 
as  solicitous  as  Malherbe  himself  that  the  purity 
of  the  French  language  should  be  strictly  main- 
tained, and,  as  a  means  of  ensuring  it,  proposed  to 
the  French  Academy,  of  which  he  was  one  of  the 
first  members,  that  the  academicians  should  bind 
themselves  by  oath  to  use  no  words  that  a  majority 
of  the  society  had  not  approved.      Marie  de  Medi- 
cis gave  him   a  pension  of  twelve   hundred  ecus. 
But    Marie's    pensioners    were    unfortunate ;    the 
amount  they  received  fluctuating  with  her  fluctu- 
ating fortunes,   until   payment  ceased  altogether, 
and  their  royal  patroness  was  herself  an  indigent 
wanderer,  dependent  on  the  sympathy  and  charity 
of  foreigners.     De  Gombauld  was  a  younger  son 
of  a  noble  Protestant  family,  and  no  expectation  of 
court  favour,  poor  though  he  was,  induced  him  to 
change  the  Reformed  for  the  Roman  faith.      He 
was  born  in  the  persecuting  days  of  Charles  IX., 
and  lived  far  into  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  attain- 
ing to  nearly  a  hundred  years.      His  works,  and 
especially   his   epigrams,   had   considerable  vogue 
and  success  in  their  day. 


RELIGIOUS  NOVELS  37 

To  De  Gombaulcl,  Malherbe,  Vaugelas,  and  Jean 
Louis  de  Balzac,  the  French  language  owes  much 
of  its  beauty,  clearness,  and  harmony.  The  societe 
d' dite  of  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet,  whose  example 
afterwards  gave  a  tone  of  refinement  to  French 
society  generally,  imparted  the  same  polished  ele- 
gance also  to  the  language,  and  purged  it  of  those 
grossih'etes  which  Moliere  and  others  would  have 
retained,  qualifying  their  indecencies  by  such 
terms  as  naivete  and  franchise.  But  even  Moliere 
was  compelled  to  abandon,  in  his  later  produc- 
tions, some  few  of  the  coarse  expressions  that 
hitherto  had  found  so  much  favour  with  him. 
And  it  was  in  deference  to  an  authority  which, 
though  he  rebelled  against  it,  proved  greater  than 
his  own ;  the  purer  literary  taste  that  prcciosite  — 
a  word  unknown  to  the  French  language  until  late 
in  the  century  —  notwithstanding  some  affecta- 
tions, had  been  the  means  of  diffusing  far  beyond 
the  circles  of  Rambouillet  and  its  successors. 

In  the  early  years  of  the  seventeenth  century 
the  ladies  improved  their  minds,  or  sought  amuse- 
ment in  leisure  hours,  by  reading  the  works  of 
Rabelais,  or  the  poems  of  Ronsard.  They  had 
besides,  as  a  corrective,  "Philothee,"  a  religious 
novel,  by  St.  Jean  Damoscene.  It  was  called 
"  Le  roman  des  devots,"/<^r  excellence.  "  Amours 
d'Euryale  et  de  Lucrece,"  written  by  Pope  Pius 
II.,  and  therefore,  no  doubt,  very  edifying,  if  not 
very  amusing,  also  retained  favour,  and  a  place  on 


38  OLD   PARIS 

the  scantily  furnished  bookshelves  of    les   dames 
chatelaines. 

A  few  months  before  the  death  of  Henry  IV. 
the  first  volume  of  "  Astree  "  appeared,  a  romance 
by  the  Marquis  d'Urfe.  From  the  extraordinary 
influence  it  had  on  the  manners  of  the  day,  it  is 
considered  to  have  initiated  that  change  in  them 
which  was  confirmed  by  the  society  that  met  at 
the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  some  years  later. 
"Astree"  is  a  pastoral  allegory,  and  describes 
the  amours  platoniqjies  of  the  author,  interspersed 
with  many  episodes  of  the  gallantries  of  the  court 
of  Henry  IV.  But  it  is  perfectly  pure  in  tone. 
The  characters  are  numerous,  and  it  would  be 
difficult  to  select,  where  all  are  important,  a  hero 
and  heroine;  but  the  title  suggests  the  latter,  and 
the  author  was  known  to  be  the  former.  Shep- 
herds and  shepherdesses  are  the  principal  person- 
ages, who,  in  long  and  rather  vague  conversations, 
and  dissertations  of  unconscionable  length,  set 
forth  the  delights  of  chaste  love,  and  the  joys  of 
an  Jionnete  amitie.  Their  language  is  sentimental 
in  the  extreme,  and  thus  suited  to  the  subject  of 
their  discourse;  but  affectations  abound,  and  the 
high-flown  expressions  and  dogmatic  tone  of  some 
of  the  speakers  give  one  the  idea  that  these  shep- 
herds and  shepherdesses  are  really  only  courtiers 
and  sophists  in  disguise.  The  adventures  of  this 
rambling  company  are,  however,  numerous,  and 
often  amusing. 


B 01  LEAD'S    OPINION   OF  '' ASTRAE"  39 

To  retain  popularity,  as  "Astree"  did,  for  up- 
wards of  half  a  century,  a  work  must  necessarily 
possess  some  merit.  Boileau  speaks  of  it  as 
"  ime  narration  vive  et  fleuric^  ses  caracteres  jine- 
vient  niargties,  agreablement  varies  et  bien  snives." 
"Astree"  was  published  in  five  quarto  volumes, 
which  appeared  in  succession,  at  irregular  inter- 
vals, in  the  course  of  fifteen  years ;  ten  elapsed 
between  the  publication  of  the  first  and  second 
volumes.  The  first  was  dedicated  to  Henry  IV., 
who  was  pleased  with  the  work.  He  received  it 
but  a  short  time  before  his  assassination,  and  as 
he  was  then  confined  to  his  bed  by  gout,  he 
desired  it  to  be  read  to  amuse  him.  The  new 
species  of  gallantry  "  Astree  "  introduced  to  his 
notice  met  with  his  approval,  for  though  differing 
so  greatly  from  his  own,  it  coincided  with  it  in  one 
respect  —  it  inculcated  a  system  that  made  woman 
the  object  of  universal  homage. 

The  personal  history  of  the  Marquis  d'Urfe  has 
some  romance  in  it.  Henry  had  a  strong  aversion 
to  him.  He  was  one  of  the  Leaguers,  and,  refus- 
ing to  submit,  was  made  prisoner  of  war.  Soon 
after  he  escaped.  Being  a  remarkably  handsome 
man,  witty  in  conversation,  distingue'  in  manners. 
Marguerite,  Henry's  wife,  had  fallen  deeply  in 
love  with  him.  But  the  marquis  was  at  that  time 
the  despairing  slave  of  a  hopeless  passion  for  the 
celebrated  beauty  Diane  de  Chateaunormand,  who, 
by  an  arrangement   between  his  and  her  family, 


40  OLD   PARIS 

had  become  the  wife  of  his  elder  brother.  D'Urfe 
was,  therefore,  insensible  to  the  fascinations  of 
Marguerite.  The  cause  of  his  melancholy  being 
made  known  to  her,  her  interest  in  him  increased, 
and  as  it  was  evident  that  his  heart  was  irrevo- 
cably disposed  of,  she  contrived  that  he  should 
soon  be  on  his  way  to  the  court  of  Turin,  his 
family  being  related  to  the  House  of  Savoy.  The 
lovelorn  marquis  then  determined  to  become  a 
knight  of  Malta.  No  sooner  had  he  taken  his 
vow,  than  his  brother,  animated  by  religious  zeal, 
was  desirous  of  being  freed  from  the  marriage 
yoke,  in  order  to  enter  the  Church  as  a  cloistered 
monk.  His  application  to  Rome  was  complied 
with,  and  the  beautiful  Diane  was  free.  The 
younger  D'Urfe  now,  in  his  turn,  addressed  him- 
self to  Rome,  praying  to  be  absolved  from  his  vow 
of  celibacy.  Interest  and  money  aiding  him,  his 
prayer  was  granted,  and,  by  the  same  means,  a 
dispensation  obtained,  enabling  him  to  marry  his 
brother's  wife. 

But  disappointment  awaited  the  unfortunate 
marquis.  Diane  had  been  willing  to  marry  him, 
because  it  prevented  the  alienation  of  certain 
estates  ;  but  as  to  love,  she  had  none  to  give  to 
her  rapturous  and  adoring  swain.  She  was  beau- 
tiful as  early  spring,  but  intensely  selfish,  her 
deepest  feeling  being  great  admiration  of  her 
own  charms.  Profoundly  grieved  at  her  insen- 
sibility to  his  devotion  to  her,  D'Urfe  left  his  belle 


ARC  AD /A   BECAME    THE   RAGE  4.I 

marquise  and  retired  to  a  distant  estate,  where  he 
sought  to  soothe  his  wounded  spirit  by  depicting 
the  pure  pleasures  of  an  ideal  love.  The  story 
of  his  romantic  and  unrequited  passion,  his  deep 
melancholy,  his  secluded  life,  gave  added  interest 
and  extraordinary  vogue  to  his  romance.  The 
succeeding  volumes  were  looked  for  with  an  anx- 
iety that  did  not  abate  during  the  fifteen  years 
that  expectation  was  kept  on  the  stretch,  and 
they  were  all  equally  well  received  as  the  first. 
When  D'Urfe  had  completed  his  fifth  volume,  he 
died.  The  story  of  his  hapless  love  being  told, 
his  work  in  this  world  was  finished.  By  his  direc- 
tion the  last  volume  was  published  by  his  sec- 
retary. The  learned  Huet,  Bishop  of  Avranches, 
who  wrote  a  work  on  "  L'Origine  des  Romans," 
says  that  St.  Francois  de  Sales  read  "Astree" 
with  intense  delight,  and  named  it  "  le  breviaire 
des  courtisatisy 

Arcadia  became  the  rage ;  the  ladies  were 
desirous  of  reproducing  those  scenes  of  pastoral 
love  and  idleness.  But  the  gardens  attached  to 
the  houses  of  the  nobility  in  Paris,  though  large, 
were  yet  too  confined,  and  their  trees  and  shrubs 
too  much  clipped  into  formal  devices  to  bear  any 
resemblance  to  D'Urfe's  Arcadian  bowers  and 
groves,  sacred  to  gentle  shepherds  and  shepherd- 
esses in  silks  and  lace.  Yet  the  attempt  to 
realize  the  pastoral  life  was  really  made  in  the 
faubourg  by  Vauquelin  des  Iveteaux,  who  had  been 


42  OLD   PARIS 

Governor  of  Caen,  and  was  afterwards  preceptor 
to  the  Due  de  Vendome,  and  to  the  dauphin. 
He  had  led  a  dissipated  life,  but,  having  read 
"Astree,"  he  was  so  charmed  with  the  pastoral 
one  that  he  resolved  to  forsake  his  irregularities, 
and  to  seek,  in  the  evening  of  his  days  (he  was 
then  between  sixty  and  seventy),  the  pure  joys 
and  peace  that  Arcadia  promised.   ■ 

He  retired  to  a  house  with  large  gardens,  which 
belonged  to  him,  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain. 
There,  dressed  in  the  correct  shepherd  costume, 
with  his  rustic  pipe,  and  by  his  side  a  pretty 
shepherdess,  in  pink  and  blue  silk,  and  a  crook 
trimmed  with  ribands  and  lace,  he  wandered  about 
his  grounds.  The  shepherd  carried  a  lute,  and 
when  he  and  his  gentile  amie  reposed  beneath  a 
shady  tree,  or  lounged  near  a  pond  that  did  duty 
for  a  crystal  stream,  he  played  on  his  pipe 
while  the  lady  twanged  the  lute  and  sang  a  few 
snatches  of  song.  The  gentleman  led  two  lambs 
by  a  silken  cord.  They  were  "the  milk-white 
flock,"  and  lay  at  the  feet  of  the  shepherd  and 
shepherdess  when  they  sat  down  on  a  grassy  slope 
to  expatiate  on  the  delights  and  pure  joys  of  pas- 
toral life  and  sentimental  friendship.  M.  des 
Iveteaux  lived  in  this  way  for  some  years,  when 
weather  permitted  ;  and,  as  he  lived  to  the  age  of 
ninety,  it  may  be  presumed  that  he  found  pastoral 
life  pleasant  and  easy,  and  that  rusticating  agreed 
with    him.      He  went    out    of   the  world    to  the 


''AMOURS  DU  GRAND   ALCANDRE"  43 

sound  of  the  lute  and  shepherd's  pipe,  accom- 
panying an  idyl  of  his  own  composing,  for  he  was 
a  tolerable  poet.  He  thought  that  sweet  simple 
sounds  soothed  the  spirit  when  winging  its  flight 
from  earth  to  the  bowers  of  bliss.  The  end  of 
this  shepherd  was  peace. 

"Astree"  had  many  imitators,  but  none  that 
met  with  a  like  success,  for  none  was  inspired  by 
a  romantic  passion  such  as  guided  the  pen  of 
D'Urfe.  "  Les  Amours  du  Grand  Alcandre " 
owed  its  origin  to  the  success  of  "  Astree."  The 
Princess  de  Conti  (Louise  de  Lorraine)  was  its 
author,  Henry  IV.  its  hero.  The  work  was  satiri- 
cal ;  but  how  thoroughly  gross-minded  the  age 
must  have  been  when  a  woman  of  rank  and 
influence,  and  with  a  great  reputation  for  learn- 
ing, selected  as  a  theme  for  her  pen  the  frightful 
depravity  of  Henry  IV.,  with  a  view  of  rendering 
it  diverting,  under  the  guise  of  a  pastoral  romance, 
as  light  reading  for  her  own  sex.  The  princess 
herself  had  been  the  object  of  one  of  Henry's 
numerous  but  short-lived  grandcs  passions.  In 
the  midst  of  this  general  corruption,  one  pure- 
minded  woman,  disgusted  with  the  vice  of  the 
court,  withdrew  from  it,  and  resolved  to  attempt 
the  regeneration  of  society ;  that  woman  was  the 
Marquise  de  Rambouillet. 


CHAPTER   V. 

Betrothal  of  Catherine  de  Vivonne  and  the  Count  d'Angennes. 

—  The  Pisani  Family.  —  The  Nobles  and  Clergy.  —  Edu- 
cated Women.  —  Marguerite  de  France.  —  Desire  for  Social 
Intercourse.  —  La  Folie  Rambouillet.  —  The  Old  Hotel 
Pisani.  —  The  Hotel  de  Rambouillet.  —  The  Salon  Bleu.  — 
The  Luxembourg  Palace.  —  The  Marquise  de  Rambouillet. 

—  Rising  Influence  of  Rambouillet.  —  The  Marquis  de 
Racan.  —  Armand  du  Plessis.  —  The  Ladies  of  the  Ram- 
bouillet Circle. 


|N  the  same  year  (the  first  of  the  seven- 
teenth century)  that  Henry  IV.  mar- 
ried Marie  de  Medicis,  Catherine  de 
Vivonne,  daughter  of  the  Marquis  Pisani,  was 
betrothed  to  the  Count  d'Angennes,  eldest  son 
of  the  Marquis  de  Rambouillet.  Catherine  was 
then  but  twelve  years  of  age.  Four  years  after, 
their  marriage  was  solemnized,  and  the  young 
Countess  d'Angennes  was  introduced  to  a  court 
the  most  depraved  in  morals,  the  grossest  and 
most  unpolished  in  manners,  of  any  in  Europe. 
She  was  immediately  appointed  one  of  the  dames 
d'hojineiir  of  the  queen. 

The  Pisani  family  was  of  Italian  origin,  and 
distantly  connected  with  that  of  the  Medici,  but 
had  settled  in  France  from  the  time  of  Francis  I. 


THE  PISANI  FAMILY  45 

Several  of  its  members  had  served  in  the  French 
army ;  others  had  held  offices  of  state.  They 
had  married  into  French  families,  had  become 
thoroughly  French  in  their  sympathies,  and  for 
two  generations  past  they  were  French  by  birth. 
The  families  of  both  Rambouillet  and  Pisani  had 
belonged  to  that  ^^ parti  de  milieu  "  of  moderate 
Catholics  who  had  favoured  the  pretensions  of 
Henry  of  Navarre  to  the  throne.  There  were 
eight  brothers  D'Angennes,  and  none  of  them  had 
joined  the  League.  It  was  the  eldest  son  of 
the  eldest  of  these  brothers  who  had  married 
Catherine  de  Vivonne.  He  held  a  military  com- 
mand, and,  naturally,  was  high  in  favour  with  the 
king. 

The  young  countess  inherited  a  very  large 
fortune — an  immense  one,  it  was  thought  in 
those  days.  She  had  been  brought  up  in  much 
seclusion,  and  had  become  attached  to  sedentary 
pursuits.  She  was  fond  of  reading  and  conver- 
sation, had  some  skill  in  painting  and  architec- 
tural drawing,  acquired,  probably,  during  a  resi- 
dence in  Italy.  The  boisterous  revels  of  the 
court  afforded  her  no  pleasure ;  those  "  ballets  de 
la  rcine,  ballets  dii  roi,  ballets  de  lacoiir,"  etc.,  in 
all  of  which,  queen,  king,  courtiers  and  ladies, 
took  each  a  character,  and  danced  and  sang  — 
the  royal  band  of  six  violins  accompanying  —  to 
the  best  of  their  ability,  no  doubt,  but,  at  all 
events,  gleefully  and  lustily.      For  those  grandees, 


46  OLD   PARIS 

of  whom  the  greater  number  were  in  intellectual 
culture  scarcely  on  a  level  with  the  rude  and  un- 
lettered classes  of  the  present  day,  found,  like 
them,  the  keenest  of  their  pleasures  in  noise  and 
energetic  movement.  And  there  was  plenty  of 
this  gross  hilarity  while  Henry  reigned. 

The  general  clergy,  in  intelligence,  morals, 
and  manners,  were  about  on  a  par  with  the  laity. 
The  canons  of  Notre  Dame  and  the  Sainte 
Chapelle  were  forever  quarrelling  and  scuffling 
when  they  met,  each  claiming  to  take  the  pas  of 
the  other.  Even  several  years  later,  when  Louis 
XIII.  solemnly  placed  France  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  Virgin  Mary,  "  in  order  that  all 
his  loyal  subjects  might  be  received  into  Paradise, 
such  being  his  goodwill  and  pleasure,"  the  Parlia- 
ment and  the  members  of  the  Chamber  of  Finance 
contended  so  vehemently  for  precedency  in  the 
procession,  that  they  came  to  blows  in  the  Cathe- 
dral of  Notre  Dame.  When  any  unusual  rise  in 
the  Seine  occurred  ;  any  outbreak  of  plague  or 
smallpox,  from  the  general  filthiness  of  the  city  ; 
the  fall  of  a  bridge  from  the  undue  weight  of  its 
houses,  or  similar  catastrophe ;  to  prevent  a  recur- 
rence of  it,  the  jawbone  of  St.  This,  the  finger- 
joint  of  St.  That,  and  the  body  of  poor  old  St. 
Denis,  dragged  from  its  coffin,  were  carried  in 
procession  to  the  shrine  of  some  dilapidated  image 
of  the  Virgin,  who  might  be  prevailed  on,  it  was 
hoped,  by  prayers   and   presents   to  appease  the 


EDUCATED    WOMEN  47 

Divine  wrath,  to  which  the  people  were  taught  to 
ascribe  their  calamities. 

Education,  for  the  most  part,  was  despised  by 
the  accomplished  cavaliers  and  grand  seigneurs  of 
those  days.  Some  few  condescended  to  read  and 
write  ;  but  in  war,  the  duel,  the  chase,  and  the 
dance,  all  aspired  to  acquit  themselves  well. 

Woman,  not  improbably,  might  be  the  cause  of 
a  war  or  a  duel,  but  as  she  was  not  required  to 
take  part  in  it,  and  frequently  did  not  join  in  the 
pleasures  or  hardships  of  the  chase,  she  had  gen- 
erally more  instruction  and  culture  than  the  men 
of  the  period,  and  to  this  was  chiefly  owing  the 
social  pre-eminence  she  attained  in  France.  The 
seclusion  of  the  vie  de  chdtea?c  was  as  favourable 
to  her  acquirement  of  studious  habits  and  the 
indulgence  of  literary  tastes,  as  was  the  cloister 
to  the  intellectually  gifted  monk.  Many  women 
knew  something  of  Latin,  if  only  so  much  as 
enabled  them  to  follow  the  sense  of  the  prayers 
in  their  livres  d'/ieures.  This  little  often  led  to 
the  further  study  of  the  language,  and  the  attain- 
ment of  considerable  proficiency  in  it.  Marguerite 
de  France,  Henry's  first  wife,  is  said  to  have 
replied  to  the  Latin  address  of  the  Bishop  of 
Cracow  (one  of  the  ambassadors  deputed  to  offer 
the  crown  of  Poland  to  her  brother,  the  Duke  of 
Anjou)  with  so  much  fluency  and  eloquence,  that 
he  was  no  less  delighted  than  surprised  by  it. 

The  Countess  d'Angennes  appears  to  have  had 


48  OLD    PARIS 

less  knowledge  of  Latin,  as  it  is  stated  that  her 
desire  to  read  Virgil  led  her  to  study  the  language, 
but  that  ill-health  compelled  her  to  discontinue  it. 
She,  however,  was  well  acquainted  with  Italian 
and  Spanish.  The  latter  was  acquired  in  Spain, 
whither  she  accompanied  her  husband.  She 
brought  thence  to  Paris  that  fashion  of  alcoves 
which  she  introduced  into  her  own  hotel,  and 
which  so  long  remained,  and  to  a  certain  degree 
still  continues,  a  favourite  arrangement  in  French 
bedrooms.  After  the  birth  of  her  daughter  (in 
later  years  the  celebrated  Julie  d'Angennes),  she 
withdrew  from  the  Louvre,  and  returned  to  it  no 
more,  except  on  the  occasion  when  she  was  named 
by  Henry  one  of  the  davtcs  d' honneiLr  to  attend 
Marie  de  Medicis  at  her  coronation. 

The  Marquise  de  Rambouillet  (her  husband's 
father  had  lately  died)  was  then  in  her  twentieth 
year  —  ''belle,  bonne  et  spirituelle.''  Other  ladies 
to  whom  ,  culture  had  imparted  a  refinement  of 
manners  out  of  harmony  with  the  discord  and 
scandal  that  reigned  at  court,  also  held  aloof 
from  its  coarse  pleasures  and  noisy  gaieties  ;  for 
at  that  time  a  strong  and  general  desire  was 
awakened  amongst  persons  of  rank  and  easy  for- 
tune for  social  communication,  intimate  and  varied, 
yet  more  polished  than  hitherto  had  existed  in 
France.  The  social  instinct  was  born,  but  as 
yet  its  influence  was  small ;  for  there  was  no 
society  apart  from  the  court ;   no  salons  thrown 


LA    FOLIE   RAMBOUILLET  49 

open  for  the  reception  of  distinguished  littera- 
teurs^ and  no  social  rainiofis.  The  theatre  —  the 
favourite  amusement  of  the  marquise  —  was  open 
only  now  and  then  ;  the  performances  also  were 
occasional,  and  loges  a  Vannee  not  then  introduced. 
The  French  Academy  was  not  yet  founded,  and 
the  men  who  were  to  shed  most  lustre  upon  it 
were  either  unborn,  still  unknown  to  fame,  or 
mere  youths,  and  their  talents  immature. 

But  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  was  about  to  be 
erected  ^  that  renowned  hotel,  destined  to  wel- 
come and  foster  rising  genius  and  talent ;  to 
assemble  rank,  beauty,  wit,  worth  and  learning 
in  its  celebrated  salon  bleu,  and  by  the  influence 
of  its  societe  d' elite  on  the  manners  and  literature 
of  the  age  to  achieve  a  social  revolution,  and  to 
acquire  lasting  fame  in  the  republic  of  letters. 
Meanwhile  ^^Je  me  figure,''  writes  Roederer,  ^^  que 
jamais  on  n  ent  autajit  besoin  de  se  parler  de  s  epan- 
cher,  en  France  ni  aillciirs  qu' a  cette  epoque." 

French  writers  differ  greatly  in  their  accounts 
of  the  famous  Hotel  de  Rambouillet,  as  regards 
its  situation  and  date  of  erection.  Not  a  vestige 
of  it  now  remains  to  fix  either  with  certainty. 
It  has  sometimes  been  confounded  with  the  Hotel 
Rambouillet  built  by  the  rich  financier,  father  of 
Rambouillet  de  la  Sabliere,  the  poet,  and  husband 
of  Madame  de  la  Sabliere,  celebrated  in  the  verse 
of  La  Fontaine  and  the  Marquis  de  la  Fare. 
This  edifice  was  generally  known  at  that  time  as 


50  OLD   PARIS 

"La  Folie  Rambouillet."  It  was  built  on  his 
estate  at  the  village  of  Reuilly,  where  now  the 
Rue  de  Rambouillet  joins  the  Avenue  Monmesnil. 
Its  gardens  were  celebrated  for  their  extent  and 
beauty.  Others  make  the  old  Hotel  Pisani,  re- 
christened  and  embellished,  do  duty  for  the  hotel 
that  was  built  from  the  designs  of  the  marquise 
herself.  Tallemant  des  Reaux,  who  was  an  inti- 
mate friend  of  the  marquise,  and  a  frequenter  of 
her  salon,  and  therefore  should  be  correctly  in- 
formed, says :  "  Her  father  sold  the  old  Hotel 
Pisani,  in  1606,  for  345,000  liv.,  and  the  Cardinal 
de  Richelieu,  in  1624,  bought  it  for  30,000  ecus, 
when  it  was  taken  down,  and  the  Palais  Cardinal, 
afterward  Palais  Royal,  built  on  its  site."  It  was 
an  ancient  domain  ;  in  appearance,  almost  a  feudal 
chdtcaji. 

The  new  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  was  built  in 
grounds  or  gardens  already  belonging  to  the  family 
in  the  Rue  St.  Thomas  du  Louvre.  The  marquise 
herself  was  its  architect.  No  design  that  was 
offered  pleased  her,  and  her  own  was  entirely 
followed ;  yet  there  were  then  in  Paris  several 
Italian  architects  of  repute,  invited  by  Marie  de 
Medicis,  who,  on  assuming  the  regency,  deter- 
mined on  building  herself  a  palace^  in  imitation  of 
her  relative  and  predecessor,  Catherine. 

The  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  was  of  red  brick  and 
slate,  with  embrasures,  cornices,  friezes,  arfihi- 
traves,  and  pilasters  of  freestone.     These  materials 


HOTEL    BE   RAMBOUILLET  5  I 

were  then  generally  employed  for  large  buildings, 
and  were  thought  to  combine  well  and  to  harmo- 
nize agreeably  to  the  eye.*  Rambouillet  was  of 
less  extent  than  many  of  the  hotels  of  the  nobility  ; 
but  the  space  at  command  was  so  skilfully  turned 
to  account,  the  apartments  so  admirably  propor- 
tioned and  disposed  with  so  much  art,  that  the 
effect  was  that  of  a  mansion  more  spacious  than 
many  that  were  in  fact  larger,  but  were  less 
judiciously  and  conveniently  arranged. 

There  were  four  principal  salons  leading  into 
each  other  on  the  ground-floor  ;  an  arrangement 
which,  with  their  high,  wide  doors  and  long  win- 
dows, reaching  from  floor  to  ceiling,  was  first 
introduced  by  the  marquise,  and  afterwards  copied 
in  the  Petit  Luxembourg,  in  Richelieu's  palace, 
and  the  yet  unfinished  houses  of  the  Place  Royale. 
Indeed,  Rambouillet  served  as  a  model  for  many 
of  the  chateaux  and  palaces  of  France  in  the 
seventeenth  century.  The  loftiness  of  its  salons, 
its  circular  staircase,  leading  to  the  corps  de  logis, 
or  range  of  rooms  on  the  first  floor,  with  the  long 
line  of  doors  at  equal  distances,  and  facing  each 
other,  were  all  novelties  that  met  with  general 
approval  and  adoption.  The  gardens  extended 
the  whole  length  of  the  suite  of  salons,  affording 

*  When  the  rich  bourgeois  built  themselves  houses  after  the 
sarrie  fashion,  this  combination  of  red,  white,  and  slate  colour 
imrfcdiately  went  out  of  favour,  as  giving  the  appearance  of  a 
house  built  of  cards. 


52  OLD   PARIS 

a  pleasant  view,  as  well  as  light  and  air.  The 
salons  were  thrown  open  or  closed,  according  as 
the  society  was  more  or  less  numerous ;  but  all 
were  superbly  furnished. 

The  marquise  is  said  to  have  been  the  first 
to  innovate  on  the  custom  of  colouring  or  paint- 
ing the  rooms  of  a  red  tint  or  a  tawny  dark 
yellow.  Hence  the  admiration  bestowed  on  the 
^^ salon  bleu,''  apart  from  its  being  the  principal 
salle  de  rainion.  Its  walls  were  hung  with  blue 
velvet,  panelled  in  borders  of  gold.  The  furniture 
was  of  the  same  material,  relieved  by  gold  fringes 
and  lace.  "  The  air  was  perfumed  with  the  odour 
of  flowers,  arranged  in  beautiful  vases  and  bas- 
kets, and  in  such  profusion  that  eternal  spring 
seemed  to  reign  there."  In  the  evening  the 
salons  were  lighted  with  lamps  of  Venetian  glass, 
also  first  seen  at  Rambouillet ;  and  there  were 
splendid  Italian  cabinets,  filled  with  the  choicest 
and  rarest  specimens  of  delicate  sculpture,  scarce 
enamels,  gems,  and  other  articles  of  virtu. 
Amongst  the  many  treasures  of  the  salon  bleu 
was  a  spinet,  a  marvel  of  its  kind,  brought  by 
the  marquise  from  Italy.  It  was  exquisitely 
painted  with  flowers  and  birds,  and  inlaid  with 
turquoise,  gold,  and  pearl.*     It  is  probable  that 

*  The  South  Kensington  Museum  has  a  spinet  of  the  latter 
part  of  the  sixteenth  century.  It  is  of  Italian  workmanship, 
and  may  resemble  the  Rambouillet  spinet,  though  perhaps*  less 
richly  ornamented ;  yet  it  is  an  interesting  work  of  art.  It 
belonged  to  an  Italian  princess  of  that  period. 


MADAME   DE   KAMBOUILLET  53 

its  ornamentation  enchanted  the  eye  more  than 
its  music  the  ear.  The  lute  and  the  theorbe  were 
the  instruments  then  in  vogue  for  the  voice ; 
the  violins  for  a  dance ;  but  whether  Ram- 
bouillet  danced  we  have  not  been  told.  Only 
the  stately  minuet  could  have  found  favour 
there;  certainly  no  ''ballet  du  rot''  of  the  court 
of  that  time.  The  opera  was  not  yet  intro- 
duced into  France,  and  Lulli  was  not  yet  born. 

"  Rambouillet  was  built  in  the  time  of  le 
Marechal  d'Ancre."  It  was  completed  about 
1 6 14,  when  the  park  and  gardens  of  the  Luxem- 
bourg Palace  were  being  laid  out  and  planted. 
The  palace  itself  was  not  begun  until  the  fol- 
lowing year;  for  although  Marie  de  Medicis 
had  employed  the  architect  De  Brosse  to  furnish 
the  designs,  they  were  only  finally  accepted 
after  having  been  submitted  to  almost  every 
architect  of  note  in  France  and  Italy,  and  some 
few  of  the  alterations  they  suggested  adopted. 
They  were  also  inspected,  at  the  queen's  re- 
quest, by  Madame  de  Rambouillet,  and  every 
part  of  her  hotel  was  visited  by  De  Brosse 
before  the  works  at  the  Luxembourg  were  begun. 
But  the  architect's  visit  was  intended  probably 
as  a  compliment  only  to  the  talented  marquise  ; 
for  De  Brosse  proposed  to  recall  the  style  of 
the  Pitti  Palace — where  the  queen  had  usually 
resided  while  at  the  court  of  her  father,  the 
Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany  —  in  th^  facades  of  the 


54  OLD   PARIS 

sumptuous  Palais  de  Luxembourg.  And  its  inte- 
rior arrangement  naturally  would  differ  greatly 
from  that  of  the  private  mansion  of  one  of  the 
nobility. 

Madame  de  Rambouillet  was  about  twenty-six 
years  of  age  when  her  hotel  was  furnished  and 
ready  for  occupation.  We  learn  from  writers 
of  the  day  that  she  was  very  tall  and  of 
dignified  carriage.  (All  the  family,  both  sons 
and  daughters,  were  so  much  above  the  middle 
height,  that  they  were  called  familiarly,  "  les 
sapins  de  Rambouillety)  Her  features  were 
regular,  her  eyes  and  complexion  fine.  When- 
ever she  is  mentioned  in  contemporary  epistolary 
writings  and  memoirs,  it  is  always  with  respect 
and  admiration  —  an  agreement  in  opinion  of 
which  they  afford  scarcely  another  instance,  when 
referring  to  any  celebrated  person  of  the  time. 
Mademoiselle  de  Scudery  speaks  of  her  as  "  beau- 
tiful, witty,  gentle,  and  generous;  constant  in 
friendship,  good,  just,  and  pure."  No  foreigner 
of  any  distinction  visited  Paris  but  sought  an 
opportunity  of  paying  her  the  homage  so  justly 
due  to  her;  and  so  highly  was  her  judgment 
esteemed  on  subjects  connected  with  literature 
and  art,  that  not  only  would  poets  submit  their 
verses  to  her,  but  often  skilled  workmen  sought 
her  approval  of  their  choicest  artistic  produc- 
tions. 

Rambouillet  only  gradually  acquired   its  great 


THE  MARQUIS  DE   RACAN  55 

influence  and  eminence;  it  did  not  immediately 
become  the  tribunal  of  language  and  taste,  the 
centre  ^^cTunc  societe  policy  It  was  checked  at 
the  outset  by  the  spirit  of  discord  that  reigned 
in  the  capital.  Marie  de  Medicis  had  not  only 
proved  incapable  of  governing  the  kingdom,  but 
had  allowed  herself  to  be  governed  by  arrogant 
and  unprincipled  Italian  favourites,  who  filled 
every  lucrative  office  of  state,  and  were  intent 
on  enriching  themselves  at  the  expense  of  the 
oppressed  people.  Many  noble  families  had  with- 
drawn from  the  court  in  disgust,  and  retired  to 
their  chateaux  in  the  provinces.  But  the  poets 
Malherbe  and  Ogier  de  Gombauld,  with  Vaugelas, 
the  classical  writer,  and  Jean  Louis  de  Balzac  — 
then  not  more  than  twenty  years  of  age  —  were 
among  the  first  of  the  gois  de  lettres  of  that  day 
who  frequented  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet.  The 
young  Marquis  de  Racan  was  also  of  their 
number;  he  afterwards  wrote  the  life  of  Mal- 
herbe, having  been  a  disciple  of  the  old  poet, 
who  instructed  him  in  the  art  of  versification. 
From  reading  D'Urfe's  "Astree,"  Racan  had 
become  imbued  with  the  same  sentimental  and 
romantic  ideas.  He  either  was,  or  fancied 
himself,  passionately  in  love  with  the  marquise, 
and  poured  forth  the  story  of  his  woes  in  his 
"  Bergeries,"  the  most  popular  of  his  poetical 
works.  He  also  depicted  his  passion  and  the 
coldness  and  indifference  of  his  berg^re,  Arthenice 


56  OLD   PARIS 

(Malherbe's  anagram  of  Catherine),  in  a  pastoral 
play.      Boileau,  in  his  "  Art  Poetique,"  says  : 

"  Malherbe  d'un  hero  peut  vanter  les  exploits ; 
Racan  chanter  Phillis,  les  bergers  et  les  bois." 

Racan  cured  himself  of  his  hopeless  passion  for 
the  belle  marquise  by  going  for  a  time  to  the 
wars  and  afterwards  taking  a  wife. 

By  adopting  the  name  of  Arthenice,  Madame 
de  Rambouillet  has  been  considered  to  have  given 
the  first  example  of  an  affectation  which  was 
afterwards  largely  imitated.  All  women  of  any 
celebrity  had  their  "  jioms  de  Pamasse,"  so  called 
by  La  Fontaine,  who  christened  so  many  of  the 
Sylvias,  Phillises,  etc.,  of  the  day,  the  Hotel  de 
Rambouillet  itself  being  known  as  "  Le  Parnasse 
Frangais." 

Armand  du  Plessis,  Bishop  of  Lu^on,  after- 
wards Cardinal  de  Richelieu,  but  then  almoner 
to  the  queen,  was  one  of  the  early  habitue's  of 
the  Hotel,  and  more  than  once  took  part  there 
in  the  discussion  of  a  thesis,  whose  subject  was 
love.  Du  Plessis  went  to  Rome  in  1609,  to  be 
created  a  bishop,  when  he  was  under  the  pre- 
scribed age  by  two  years.  Pope  Paul  V.  having 
inquired  what  was  his  age,  Du  Plessis  did  not 
hesitate  to  make  a  false  statement  to  his  Holi- 
ness. But  when  the  ceremony  was  ended,  he 
confessed  that  he  had  told  an  untruth,  ^and 
prayed    that    the   pope   would   grant   him   absolu- 


LADIES  OF  THE  RAMBOUILLET  CIRCLE      5/ 

tion,  which  he  did,   remarking,   "  Questo  giovane 
sere  un  gran  furbo." 

The  names  of  the  ladies  who  first  formed 
part  of  the  learned  society  of  Rambouillet  are 
not  mentioned  in  the  writings  of  the  time.  We 
learn  only  that  Madame  la  Princesse  de  Conde 
was  one  of  them,  and  generally  they  may  then 
have  been  more  distinguished'for  their  rank  than 
learning.  Segrais,  at  a  later  date,  when  the  Hotel 
was  at  the  height  of  its  reputation,  says,  "Al- 
though the  rank  of  Madame  de  Rambouillet  was 
below  that  of  duchess,  she  was  held  in  such  high 
esteem  that  princesses  waived  all  considerations 
of  etiquette  for  the  pleasure  of  assisting  at  her 
reunions  y 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Louis  XIII.  —  The  Brothers  D'Albert.  —  Revels  a  I'ltalienne. 
—  Le  Marechal  d'Ancre.  —  La  Perle  du  Marais.  —  The 
Hotel  Lesdiguieres.  —  The  Cours  de  la  Reine. — Statue  of 
Henry  IV.  —  Prevalence  of  Duelling.  —  The  Queen  a 
Peacemaker.  —  The  Double  Spanish  Marriage.  —  Quadrilles 
d'Arioste.  —  Marriage  Fetes.  —  The  Girl-cjueen,  Anne  of 
Austria.  —  Marguerite  de  France. 

(OUIS  XIII.  makes  but  a  sorry  figure 
on  the  page  of  history.  The  stormy, 
imperious,  and  imprudent  Queen-regent, 
Marie  de  Medicis,  and  the  powerful,  energetic, 
and  implacable  Minister,  De  Richelieu,  over- 
shadow his  reign,  and  are  throughout  it  far 
more  important  personages  than  the  gloomy, 
weak,  and  irresolute  king.  Louis  was  surnamed 
"The  Just,"  but  not  for  the  justice  of  his 
acts.  The  surname  was  given  to  him  by  the 
astrologers  who  were  in  attendance  at  his  birth  to 
cast  his  nativity — as  was  the  common  custom  in 
that  superstitious  age  —  and  who  announced  that 
the  royal  infant  had  come  into  the  world  under 
the  zodiacal  sign  of  the  Balance.  As  a  child, 
he  was  obstinate,  disobedient,  and  sullen,  qualities 
which  Marie  endeavoured  to  have  flogged  out  of 
him.       She    spared    not    the    rod,    and    at    times, 

58 


THE   BROTHERS  D' ALBERT  59 

with  her  own  plump  white  hand,  administered  the 
needful  correction. 

His  youthful  Majesty  was  rarely  willing  to  say 
his  prayers,  in  spite  of  the  whipping  he  knew 
was  in  store  for  him  ;  yet  often,  when  to  work  on 
his  fears  the  terrible  punishment  awaiting  such 
miserable  sinners  in  another  world  was  too  forci- 
bly set  before  him,  he  would  suddenly,  in  terror, 
sink  on  his  knees,  and  hurriedly  and  incoherently 
repeat  his  orisons.  His  frame  of  mind  at  the 
time  was  no  doubt  similar  to  that  attributed  to 
him  in  after  years  when  it  was  said,  in  allusion 
to  the  urgency  of  his  devotions,  that  "  no  man 
loved  God  less  or  feared  the  prince  of  darkness 
more."  His  education  was  greatly  neglected. 
After  the  old  French  fashion,  he  was  surrounded 
with  young  pages  of  noble  family ;  obsequious 
playmates,  who  had  been  taught  to  yield  to  all 
his  humours  and  childish  caprices.  Louis  was 
a  stammerer,  and  much  of  his  ill-temper,  reserve, 
and  gloom  may  be  attributed  to  that  defect.  His 
favourites  were  the  two  brothers  D'Albert  (orig- 
inally Alberti,  of  Florence).  They  were  many 
years  older  than  Louis,  but  had  gained  his  favour 
by  their  skill  in  falconry.  Louis,  like  his  father, 
loved  the  sound  of  the  hunting-horn,  the  move- 
ment of  the  chase,  the  forests  of  Fontainebleau, 
and  after  the  manner  of  a  page  of  the  middle 
ages,  devoted  himself  to  the  training  of  hawks. 
He    had    learned    of    Charles    d'Albert    to    make 


6o  OLD   PARIS 

nets,  thongs,  overalls  of  leather,  and  various 
articles  required  for  hawking  and  hunting.  As 
Louis  grew  up  he  displayed,  says  the  caustic 
Tallemant  des  Reaux,  '^  Cent  vertus  de  valet,  et  pas 
line  vertu  de  maitre^ 

The  queen -regent  meanwhile  was  giving  a 
ceaseless  round  of  public  fetes,  revels  a  V Ita- 
lienne,  carrousels,  and  tournaments,  in  which  the 
laws  and  rules  of  the  old  chevalerie  were  revived, 
and  with  extraordinary  splendour  of  knightly 
accoutrements,  embroidered  banners,  etc.  There 
were  fireworks  also,  and  at  Vincennes  combats 
of  animals.  Vincennes  had  a  menagerie  then, 
and  an  open  court  with  tiers  of  seats  for  spec- 
tators of  the  fight.  Marie  de  Medicis  was 
courting  popularity  both  for  herself  and  the 
Concini.  The  council  of  regency  was  divided 
into  the  Italian  party  and  the  party  of  the 
French  nobility.  She  wished  to  gain  over  the 
latter,  and  to  ingratiate  herself  with  the  pop- 
ulace. The  Marechal  d'Ancre  (Concini)  had 
introduced  Ics  jenx  de  bague  and  other  games 
requiring  skill  and  dexterity.  In  these  he  ac- 
quitted himself  with  remarkable  grace  and  ele- 
gance. He  was  a  handsome  man,  and  far  more 
polished  in  manners  than  Henry's  rude  warrior 
friends.  These  rough  soldiers  regarded  both 
him  and  his  sports,  and  all  the  tribe  of  les 
Gondi,  Concini,  Alberti,  and  Strozzi,  predecessors 
of   les   Mazarini,   with   ineffable    contempt.       But 


FETES  IN  THE   PLACE   ROYALE  6l 

the  ladies  looked  on  with  favour,  smiled  on  the 
Italian,  bestowed  plaudits  upon  him,  and  play- 
fully pelted  him  with  flowers,  perfumed  gloves, 
and  handkerchiefs  steeped  in  essences. 

Most  of  these  fetes  took  place  in  the  Place 
Royale,  which  was  entirely  finished  in  1616. 
Henry  had  intended  it  for  a  splendid  bazaar,  in 
imitation  of  the  Place  St.  Marc  at  Venice,  and 
the  houses  for  bathing  establishments  after  the 
oriental  fashion.  But  the  bcati  nionde  took  a 
fancy  to  the  Place  Royale.  This  immense  quad- 
rilateral, with  its  four  wide  roads  for  horses  and 
carriages,  and  causeways  for  foot  passengers,  was 
at  that  time  one  of  the  greatest  improvements  of 
Paris,  and  from  the  elegant  style  of  its  archi- 
tecture, its  greatest  embellishment.  The  interior 
and  exterior  of  the  spacious  houses  were  finished 
and  decorated  to  harmonize  with  their  new  des- 
tination, and  the  Jiajite  noblesse  took  up  their 
quarters  there.  When  the  weather  was  fine,  the 
gardens  were  thronged  with  cavaliers  and  ladies, 
who  sauntered  through  the  carefully  clipped  elm- 
tree  walks  bordered  with  box  cut  into  hearts,  true 
lovers'  knots  and  various  other  devices.  Two 
stone  fountains  sculptured  with  tritons,  dolphins, 
etc.,  stood  in  the  gardens,  —  one  at  each  end. 
The  galleries  of  the  surrounding  houses  afforded 
a  covered  walk,. opening  on  the  square  by  a  hun- 
dred and  forty-four  arches.  La  Place  Royale  was 
considered   •'  La  perle  du  marais,"  and  that  new 


62  OLD   PARIS 

faubourg  (Paris  was  not  then  divided  into  its 
twenty  qiiartiers)  became  renowned  later  on  in 
the  seventeenth  century.  Rank  and  fashion, 
wealth  and  beauty,  dwelt  there,  and  une  societe 
spirituelle  assembled  in  the  noble  salons  of  its 
spacious  mansions.  Delicate  carvings,  exquisite 
paintings  enriched  the  cornices,  doors,  and  ceil- 
ings ;  Venetian  mirrors,  Florentine  tapestry 
adorned  the  walls ;  silks,  damasks,  and  rich 
brocatelle  covered  the  gilded  fmiteuils  and 
canapes. 

In  the  Rue  St.  Antoine  and  neighbouring 
streets  were  also  several  splendid  private  man- 
sions or  hotels  of  the  nobility.  Some  two  or 
three  were  of  the  previous  century,  and  deco- 
rated by  the  celebrated  sculptor,  Jean  Goujon. 
The  Hotel  Bethune,  the  residence  of  the  Min- 
ister Sully,  was  built  for  him  at  the  beginning 
of  Henry  IV.'s  reign  by  Ducerceau,  on  a  part 
of  the  site  of  the  Palais  des  Tournelles.  Its 
facade  is  finely  sculptured.  But  of  all  the  hotels 
of  the  Rue  St.  Antoine,  the  Hotel  Lesdiguieres 
was  the  most  celebrated  for  the  splendour  of  its 
furniture.  Sauval  speaks  of  the  principal  salle 
as  'Splits  que  royaler  Its  hangings  were  of 
brocade  woven  with  gold  thread,  with  mother-of- 
pearl  and  coral  worked  in,  in  arabesques.  The 
greater  part  of  the  furniture  was  of  massive  silver, 
beautifully  chased,  and  the  parts  in  relief  gilded. 
There  were  Venetian  cabinets  of  the  most  exqui- 


THE    COURS  DE   LA    REINE  63 

site  workmanship  and  elegant  design.  Vases  and 
girandoles  of  rock  crystal,  ancient  bronzes,  rare 
marbles  and  ivories,  rich  tapestry,  and  valuable 
paintings.  This  celebrated  hotel  gave  its  name 
to  a  street,  but  no  vestige  Of  the  building  now 
exists.  Its  treasures  were  dispersed,  and  the 
family  is  extinct.  But  the  Hotel  Bethune,  or 
Sully,  remains  an  interesting  specimen  of  French 
architecture,  of  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth 
and  early  seventeenth  century. 

The  promenade  known  as  "  the  Cours  de  la 
Reine "  was,  by  order  of  Marie  de  Medicis, 
planted  with  four  rows  of  trees,  and  thrown 
open  to  the  public.  It  was  of  the  length  of  a 
Roman  stadium ;  about  the  eighth  of  an  English 
mile.  The  Marechal  de  Bassompierre  asked  and 
obtained  permission  to  pave  the  slopes  with  free- 
stone at  his  own  expense.  He  also  placed  at 
each  end  of  the  drive  a  handsome  iron  gate  sup- 
ported by  sculptured  stone-work.  The  Cours  de 
la  Reine  was  the  resort  of  the  court  and  the 
bean  mondc  during  the  warm  summer  evenings. 

The  queen-regent  was  very  desirous  of  embel- 
lishing Paris.  In  the  first  year  of  her  regency 
the  little  king  laid  the  first  stone  of  the  build- 
ings designed  for  the  College  of  France,  which 
had  existed  in  name  from  the  time  of  Francis  I., 
but  "local  habitation"  it  had  none,  until  Marie, 
sixty  years  after,  gave  it  one.  The  aqueduct  of 
Arcueil,    the    first    construction    of    the    kind    in 


64  OLD    PARTS 

France,  was  also  due  to  her,  and  the  grand  pavil- 
ion over  the  entrance  to  the  Louvre.  The  eques- 
trian statue  of  Henry  IV.  on  the  Pont  Neuf  was 
a  present  to  the  queen  from  the  Grand  Duke  of 
Tuscany.  Cosmo  II.  put  it  on  board  a  vessel  that 
went  ashore  on  a  mud-bank,  just  after  leaving 
the  harbour.  With  much  labour  it  was  transferred 
uninjured  to  another,  which  carried  it  safely  to 
Havre.  It  arrived  in  1614,  but  was  not  placed 
on  the  bridge  until  some  years  after.  Louis 
laid  the  first  stone  of  the  marble  pedestal.  The 
four  figures  representing  the  four  quarters  of 
the  world  were  sculptured  by  Pierre  de  Franque- 
ville.  This  statue  of  Henry  IV.  was  the  first 
statue  erected  in  Paris  to  the  honour  of  any 
French  king.  It  was  the  work  of  the  famous 
Giovanni  da  Bologna. 

In  161 5  the  queen  laid  the  first  stone  of 
her  Palace  of  Luxembourg,  which  she  was 
destined  never  to  inhabit.  The  Rue  de  Seine, 
leading  to  it,  was  also  begun.  It  was  outside 
the  old  limits,  beyond  which  Paris  was  grad- 
ually extending  itself,  especially  on  the  north 
side  of  the  river.  The  new  bridge,  Pont  Marie, 
and  the  houses  of  the  He  St.  Louis  —  built  by  M. 
Marie,  a  rich  bourgeois  of  Paris,  who  obtained  a 
grant  of  the  site  from  the  queen  —  as  well  as 
many  other  changes  and  improvements  in  the 
city  and  faubourgs,  were  all  either  made  by  order 
of  Marie  de  Medicis  or  were  approved  by  her. 


PREVALENCE    OF  DUELLING  65 

Duelling  then  prevailed  to  so  great  an  extent 
—  notwithstanding  that  by  a  recent  law  it  was 
prohibited,  and  heavy  penalties  enacted  against 
transgressors  —  that  it  was  necessary  for  every 
gentiUuminic  to  be  a  skilful  swordsman.  So  sen- 
sitive were  the  honourable  gentlemen  of  that 
age,  that  it  was  not  unusual  for  them  to  have 
to  call  on  each  other  in  the  course  of  a  conver- 
sation "to  eat  their  words,"  or  draw  their  swords, 
more  than  once  or  twice  in  the  day.  Some  preiix 
chevalier  took  offence  at  the  indiscreet  utterance 
of  another  preux,  and  only  shedding  of  blood 
could  atone  for  outraged  honour.  Apology  was 
of  course  out  of  the  question.  The  consequence 
was  that  the  fencing  schools  —  they  were  called 
academies  then  —  were  very  numerously  attended. 
An  old  writer  boasts  of  there  being  six  acade- 
mies in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  alone,  and 
doubts  whether  any  other  city  in  Europe  possessed 
so  many.  These  academies  were  presided  over  by 
old  officers  of  small  means,  but  who,  if  skilful 
with  the  sword,  made  a  very  good  income  by 
their  teaching. 

"  The  manner  of  carrying  the  rapier  *  was  with 
the  point  upwards,  the  hand  on  the  guard  at  the 
side  of  the  hip,  so  as  slightly  to  raise  the  cloak, 
as  if  to  present  a  continual  menace  of  crossing 
swords  in  a  duel,  and  of  a  meeting  at  two  paces' 

*  Collet's  '  Cavaliers  du  Regne  de  Louis  XIII." 


66  OLD   PARIS 

distance  in  the  Pre  de  la  Bastille."  Duels  often 
took  place  in  the  streets ;  the  cause,  questions 
of  etiquette,  or  perhaps  family  hatreds  and  feuds, 
for  a  spirit  of  great  disorder  reigned  throughout 
society  —  Catholic  against  Protestant,  family 
against  family.  When  collisions  of  this  kind 
occurred,  the  queen  often  personally  interfered, 
either  to  reconcile  the  combatants  or  to  order 
them  to  disarm  and  remain  in  their  hotels  until 
anger  had  cooled  down  and  they  had  come  to 
their  senses.  When  she  succeeded  in  pacifying 
the  aggrieved  parties,  or  in  adjusting  the  difficulty 
that  was  the  cause  of  the  combat,  she  took  great 
credit  to  herself,  and  expressed  her  satisfaction 
in  council.  But  her  peace  was  often  troubled, 
and  considerable  annoyance  caused  her  by  scurril- 
ous pamphlets,  and  pasquinades  after  the  Italian 
fashion.  The  manners  of  her  court  were  satirized, 
her  government  of  the  kingdom  censured. 

However,  her  domestic  government  continued 
strong,  pressing  less  heavily  on  her  second  son, 
Gaston,  than  on  Louis,  who  was  now  fourteen. 
He  was  of  age,  and  might,  had  he  so  chosen, 
have  taken  the  government  of  the  kingdom  into 
his  own  hands.  A  bride,  a  few  days  younger 
than  himself,  was  on  her  way  to  France.  The 
double  Spanish  marriage  was  arranged,  and  his 
sister,  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  a  child  of  twelve, 
was  also  on  her  journey  to  Spain,  to  marry  the 
Prince    of    the    Asturias,    afterwards    Philip    IV. 


ROYAL    MARRIAGES   AND   FETES  67 

From  the  extreme  punctiliousness  of  both  the 
French  and  the  Spaniards  on  this  occasion  —  the 
French  grand  seigneur  and  the  Spanish  grandee, 
deputed  to  exchange  the  brides,  each  fearing  to 
compromise  the  dignity  of  his  nation  if  he  ad- 
vanced nearer  than  the  other  to  the  frontiers  — 
it  seemed  likely  that  the  poor  children  would 
have  to  return  to  their  respective  nurseries 
instead  of  continuing  their  journey  and  being 
married.  But  at  last  the  exchange  was  effected, 
and  Anne  of  Austria  was  conducted  to  Paris  by 
her  youthful  bridegroom.  She  was  a  fine  tall 
girl,  a  Spanish  blonde,  wanting  yet  two  or  three 
summers  for  the  full  development  of  her  beauty. 
The  royal  marriages  gave  occasion  for  a 
renewal  of  those  fetes  and  entertainments  in 
which  the  queen-regent  took  as  much  delight 
as  did  her  partizans  at  court  or  the  Parisian 
people.  "  Quadrilles  d'Arioste  "  were  performed 
in  the  Place  de  Carrousel ;  Roland,  Renaud  de 
Montauban,  and  the  rest  of  the  characters  being 
represented  by  les  grands  seignenrs.  The  galaiiterie 
Castellanc  had  also  its  representatives,  in  compli- 
ment to  the  young  queen.  Groups,  too,  of  myth- 
ological personages  came  rushing  on  the  scene  in 
enormous  triumphal  cars  drawn  by  monstrous 
beasts  —  something  in  the  style  of  a  Mardi-gras 
procession.  Their  mission  was  to  proclaim  to 
the  revellers  the  astounding  feats  of  le  puissant 
rot    Louis    XIII.  —  yet    to    be   accomplished,    of 


68  OLD   PARIS 

course,  but  which  were  clearly  seen  to  be  looming 
in  the  distance. 

Mars  announced  him  as  the  conquering  hero  of 
the  future ;  Jupiter,  as  the  mightiest  of  the 
mighty  rulers  of  France,  and  Minerva  stepped  in 
to  declare  that  wisdom  should  guide  him  when  he 
let  loose  his  thunderbolts.  "Glorious  Apollo" 
appeared  to  tell  of  his  love  for,  and  his  enlight- 
ened patronage  of  the  arts  ;  and  the  chaste  hunt- 
ress, goddess  Diana,  to  vaunt  his  prowess  in  the 
chase.  But  when  beautiful  Venus  with  her  wicked 
little  son  drove  in,  in  her  sumptuous  car — doves 
and   loves  without  number  fluttering  around  her 

—  she  had  a  victory  already  achieved  to  con- 
gratulate the  youthful  but  potent  monarch  upon. 
Gracefully  she  waved  her  hand,  and  kissed  the 
rosy  tips  of  her  fingers  as  she  bent  towards  la 
belle  Espagnole,  who,  all  radiant  with  delight,  sat 
eti  reine  by  the  side  of  her  gloomy  young  spouse. 
She,  poor  girl,  enjoyed  the  gay  and  festive  scene  ; 
the  boy-husband  was  thoroughly  bored  by  it. 

But  the  true  hero  of  it  all  seemed  to  be  he 
who  had  had  the  largest  share  in  devising  these 
revels,  and  took  a  conspicuous  part  in  them, — 
the  graceful,  smiling  Concini.      Charles  d' Albert 

—  to  whom  the  marechal  had  just  given  the  gov- 
ernorship of  Amboise  —  drew  the  young  king's 
attention  to  this,  and  roused  his  jealousy  of  the 
usurper,  as  he  called  him,  of  his  power.  "  Ballets 
feeriques "    were    danced  at   the   Louvre  by  the 


THE    GIRL-QUEEN,  ANNE    OF  AUSTRIA        69 

youthful  nobility,  who  were  dressed  as  fairies, 
cupids,  and  angels.  Theatrical  representations 
occupied  their  elders.  Marie  was  exceedingly 
fond  of  plays,  and  the  noise,  the  movement,  the 
dress  and  display,  the  profusion  and  the  lavish 
expense  the  celebration  of  these  miserable  mar- 
riages occasioned  were  a  source  of  delight  and 
gratification  to  her. 

Masses  of  the  people  assembled,  and  thronged 
the  streets  and  the  open  spaces  near  the  palace, 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  plumes  and  slashed 
doublets,  the  ruffs  and  the  ruffles,  the  lace- 
trimmed  funnel  boots  and  gold-embroidered 
chausses  of  the  grands  seigneurs,  as  well  as  to 
admire  the  pretty  painted  faces,  the  frizzy  eoijfures, 
the  feathers  and  diamonds,  the  velvets  and  satins, 
and  fine  Venetian  point-lace  of  the  belles  dames 
of  the  haute  noblesse.  But  far  prettier,  more  in- 
teresting, and  most  novel  sight  of  all,  was  the 
girl-queen,  in  her  Spanish  mantilla,  archly  smiling, 
and  coquettishly  flirting  her  Moorish  fan.  She 
was  taken  through  Paris  in  a  new  and  finely- 
painted  royal  carriage  —  the  queen-mother  and 
the  young  king  accompanying  her,  and  as  many 
courtiers  and  ladies  as  the  capacious  vehicle 
would  accommodate.  These  revels  were  the  last 
that  Marguerite  de  France  took  any  part  in. 
She  died  in  the  course  of  the  year,  aged  sixty- 
three.  After  her  return  to  France,  by  Henry's 
permission,  she  built  a  large  mansion  in  the  Pr6 


70  OLD   PARIS 

aux  Clercs,  which  had  been  for  ages  reserved  for 
the  recreation  of  the  students  of  the  various  col- 
leges. They  rebelled  at  her  appropriation  of  it, 
and  a  serious  disturbance  was  the  result.  Mar- 
guerite lived  there  in  reckless  extravagance, 
causing  much  scandal.  She  lighted  up  her  hotel 
every  night  with  hundreds  of  candles,  making  it 
quite  a  brilliant  object  in  dark,  dirty  Paris,  where 
robberies  and  assassinations  were  nightly  com- 
mitted with  impunity;  for  the  streets  had  no 
other  lighting  than  the  occasional  glimmer  of  a 
candle  that  some  householder  put  in  his  window, 
with  good  intent,  to  enlighten  the  footsteps  of  his 
neighbours,  but  whose  only  effect  was  to  make 
the  darkness  more  visible.  Marguerite  de  France 
kept  open  house  at  this  time,  and  looked  for 
admiration  as  in  the  days  of  her  youth.  She 
was  thickly  rouged  up  to  the  eyes,  wore  a  flowing 
wig  of  black  hair,  and  generally  an  old-fashioned 
hoiippelande  or  long  gold-braided  casaque.  She 
and  Marie  de  Medicis  were  on  excellent  terms, 
and  Marie  every  year  paid  Marguerite's  debts. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Revolt  of  M.  le  Prince.  —  Elenora  Galagai.  —  Concini's  great 
Wealth.  —  "  The  Accursed  Jews."  —  Assassmation  of  Con- 
cini.  —  His  Wife  Burnt  as  a  Sorceress.  —  The  Queen-regent 
Exiled.  —  Armand  du  Plessis.  —  Marie's  Return.  —  The 
Luxembourg.  —  Rubens'  Twenty-four  Paintings.  —  "  The 
Day  of  Dupes."  —  Escape  of  Marie  of  Brussels.  —  Richelieu 
rules  France.  —  Marie  in  Poverty  and  Exile. 

I  HE  unusual  stir  and  commotion  which 
the  royal  marriages  had  occasioned  in 
Paris  were  taken  advantage  of  by  M, 
le  Prince  (Henri  de  Conde)  to  assemble  those  of 
his  partizans  among  the  French  nobles  who  were 
most  strongly  opposed  to  the  Marechal  d'Ancre, 
and  had  determined  on  his  overthrow.  But  their 
plot  was  either  ill-timed  or  ill -conducted,  for 
instead  of  deposing  the  Italian,  the  prince  him- 
self was  arrested  in  the  Louvre  and  sent  to 
Vincennes.  Others  of  the  party  were  lodged  in 
the  Bastille,  or  were  banished  to  their  chateau.x, 
and  Marie  and  her  minister  congratulated  them- 
selves on  this  triumph,  as  they  believed  it  to  be, 
over  their  foes. 

The  Prince  and  Princess  de  Conde  lived  by 
no  means  on  amicable  terms.  She  had  resented 
his  forcible  removal  of   her  to  Brussels  to  elude 


72  OLD   PARIS 

the  pursuit  of  Henry  IV.,  whose  mad  passion  had 
rather  flattered  her  vanity  than  displeased  her. 
She  had  then  used  every  means  in  her  power  to 
obtain  a  divorce,  but  the  prince  opposed  it,  though 
the  marriage  had  been  urged  upon  him,  only  that 
Henry  might  take  his  wife  from  him. 

After  the  king's  assassination  the  prince 
brought  her  back  to  Paris,  but  their  estrangement 
still  continued.  A  change,  however,  seems  to 
have  come  over  the  feelings  of  the  princess  when 
she  heard  of  her  husband's  imprisonment,  as  she 
requested  to  be  allowed  to  share  his  confinement. 
Her  request  was  granted,  and  their  reconciliation 
took  place  at  Vincennes. 

The  wife  of  the  Marechal  d'Ancre  was  Elenora 
Galagai.  She  was  the  foster-sister  of  Marie 
de  Medicis,  and  accompanied  her  to  France 
on  her  marriage  with  Henry.  If  writers  of  the 
time  may  be  relied  upon,  Elenora  was  a  most 
repulsively  ugly  woman ;  but  it  is  more  likely 
that  her  repulsiveness  was  in  her  character,  and 
that  she  was  intriguing,  artful  and  haughty, 
though  possessed  of  powers  of  mind  that  gave 
her  great  influence  over  the  queen.  Marie  had 
a  great  affection  for  her,  and  married  her  to  her 
secretary,  Concini,  the  more  effectually  to  pro- 
mote the  interests  of  both  favourites.  Warned 
by  the  increasing  dissatisfaction  of  the  nobles, 
and  the  loud  complaints  of  the  suffering  people, 
of   the  constant   imposition  of    new  and  burden- 


CONCINPS   GREAT   WEALTH  73 

some  taxes  Elenora  and  her  husband  were 
secretly  taking  steps  for  transferring  their  im- 
mense wealth  to  Italy. 

Concini  possessed  several  fine  chateaux  in  the 
provinces,  and  two  or  more  in  Paris,  as  well  as 
marquisates  with  large  estates,  extensive  and 
productive  farms,  and  flourishing  vineyards.  All 
this  property  he  proposed  stealthily  to  turn  into 
specie,  and  through  the  agency  of  some  Italian 
Jews,  who  were  invited  by  him  to  settle  for  a 
time  in  Paris,  he  looked  forward  to  speedily  doing 
so.  "  During  the  seven  years  of  the  government 
of  the  queen-regent,"  says  a  French  writer, 
"  Concini  had  amassed  not  less  than  fifteen 
hundred  thousand  escudi  de  Rome,  from  the  sale 
"of  public  offices  and  from  oppressive  taxation."       . 

But  the  Jews !  The  pious  were  filled  with 
horror,  and  crossed  themselves  devoutly  at  the 
mention  of  the  word  Jew,  and  the  enlightened 
populace,  generally,  trembled  lest  the  wrath  of 
Heaven  should  be  wreaked  upon  them  when  they 
learned  that  the  "  accursed  Jews  "  were  actually 
among  them.  An  ancient  law  had  banished  them 
from  France.  The  Italian  Concini,  the  oppressor 
of  the  people,  had  brought  them  back ;  that  vile 
race  that  had  denied  Jesus  Christ  !  Outcasts 
from  their  country;  wanderers  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  condemned  for  their  crime  to  be  a  "by- 
word among  the  nations,"  and  every  man's  hand 
to    be    against    them,   "  a  race    leagued  with    the 


74  OLD   PARIS 

devil  and  the  powers  of  darkness,  who,  in  ex- 
change for  their  souls,  had  taught  them  the  secret 
of  making  gold."  Some  terrible  calamity  was 
looked  for.  The  reliques,  the  virgins,  the  saints, 
all  were  appealed  to,  to  exorcise  the  land  and 
deliver  France  from  the  malignant  influence  and 
presence  of  the  Jews. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  the  favourite  of 
the  king  saw  the  desired  opportunity  of  over- 
throwing the  favourite  of  the  queen-regent.  It 
was  difficult  to  make  Louis  take  a  resolution,  but 
when  taken,  as  difficult  to  move  him  either  to 
change  or  to  modify  it.  He  would  never  enter 
into  discussion ;  but  the  impediment  in  his 
speech  may  in  a  great  degree  account  for  that. 
By  persistence,  however,  the  favourite  Charles' 
d' Albert  prevailed  on  the  king,  in  1617,  to  sign  a 
warrant  for  the  arrest  of  the  Marechal  d'Ancre. 
His  scruples  had  arisen  from  filial  respect  —  that 
feeling  so  strong  in  French  families  of  all  classes, 
even  where,  as  in  Louis'  case,  no  great  affection 
appears  to  exist.  It  was  not  easy  to  efface  it, 
or  to  overcome  his  boyish  fears  of  exciting  the 
anger  of  his  violent  mother  by  an  act  of  authority 
that  deposed  her  favourite  and  took  from  her 
the  government  of  the  kingdom.  But  the  warrant 
was  signed,  and  Charles  d'Albert  was  to  succeed 
the  marechal  as  minister.  When  arrested  Con- 
cini  resisted,  and  drew  his  sword  to  defend 
himself.     This    had    been   foreseen  and   provided 


ASSASSINATION  OF  CONCINI  75 

for.  Five  or  six  daggers  were  immediately  un- 
sheathed, and  soon  his  body,  bleeding  and 
mangled,  was  thrown  out  to  the  populace,  given 
up  to  the  barbarities  of  a  mob,  more  cruel,  more 
revoltingly  savage  than  beasts  of  prey. 

Concini's  wife.  La  Marechale  d'Ancre  as  she 
was  called,  was  put  on  her  trial  as  a  sorceress, 
and  for  having,  with  the  aid  of  necromancers  and 
demons,  cast  a  spell  over  the  mind  of  the  queen, 
and  enriched  herself  and  her  husband  by  taking 
advantage  of  the  infatuated  imagination  of  her 
royal  mistress.  La  Marechale  seems  to  have 
behaved  with  some  dignity  when  arraigned  before 
the  enlightened  tribunal  commissioned  to  con- 
demn her  and  to  confiscate  the  property. 

"Is  it  not  true,"  said  the  learned  judge  — 
"  is  it  not  true,  wicked  woman,  that  your 
influence  over  the  queen-mother  was  gained  by 
your  spells  and  incantations.-'" 

"It  was  gained,"  she  replied,  "by  that  power 
which  strong  minds  naturally  possess  over  the 
weak." 

She  was,  however,  condemned.  She  had  been 
seen  to  ascend  Catherine  de  Medicis's  tower  in 
the  Hotel  de  Soissons.  This  was  accepted  as 
proof  positive  of  her  guilt,  and,  accordingly,  as  a 
sorceress  she  was  beheaded  and  burnt  on  the 
Place  de  Greve ;  that  famous  Place,  which  for 
centuries  was  by  turns  the  scene  of  the  public 
rejoicings    and    public    executions    of    Paris  —  a 


76  OLD   PARIS 

crowd  as  great  assembling  to  witness  the  horrors 
and  sufferings  of  the  latter  as  to  gaze  on  the 
illuminations  and  fireworks,  and  to  join  in  the 
dances  of  the  former.  The  Hotel  de  Ville  fig- 
ured no  less  prominently  for  upwards  of  three 
hundred  years  in  the  various  commotions  and 
outbreaks  of  popular  fury  in  Paris  ;  but  it  was  left 
to  the  fanatics  of  the  dark  days  of  the  commune 
to  destroy  that  fine  edifice  and  ornament  of  their 
city. 

The  death  of  the  Concini  closed  the  reign  of 
Marie  de  Medicis.  "  I  have  reigned,"  she  said, 
"  for  seven  years  over  France  ;  I  now  look  only 
for  a  heavenly  crown." 

On  the  4th  of  May,  161 7,  she  left  Paris  for 
the  Chateau  de  Blois,  the  place  of  exile  as- 
signed her.  She  wept  bitterly  when  she  found 
that  Barbini,  her  Intendant  du  palais,  was  not 
allowed  to  accompany  her,  as  she  had  requested. 
Louis,  on  the  contrary,  had  never  looked  so 
radiant,  so  happy,  so  full  of  good-humour  as  on 
the  day  of  her  departure.      He  was  then  sixteen. 

"  Enfin^''  he  exclaimed,  "  me  void  roi  !  " 

Yet  it  was  merely  a  revolution  du  palais  that 
had  taken  place.  Charles  d'Albert  was  created 
Due  de  Luynes  ;  the  confiscated  property  of  the 
unfortunate  marechal  became  his  successor's ; 
the  valuable  jewels  of  his  wife  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  young  Duchess  de  Luynes  —  the 
beautiful  Mademoiselle  Rohan  Montbazon,  after- 


ARM  AND   DU  PLESSfS  77 

wards  the  celebrated  Duchesse  de  Chevreuse, 
and  who  was  the  first  object  of  Louis'  amours 
platoniques.  The  Concini  being  dethroned,  the 
Alberti  reigned  in  their  stead,  and  poor  Louis 
XIIL  was  no  more  king  than  before. 

Armand  du  Plessis,  Bishop  of  Lu^on,  had 
held  the  office  of  secretary  under  Marechal 
d'Ancre,  but  on  the  assassination  of  his  patron 
and  the  change  in  the  government  occurring 
he  retired  to  Avignon  and  occupied  himself  in 
study  and  writing.  Two  years  afterwards  he  was 
recalled,  at  the  instance  of  De  Luynes,  who  then 
ruled  France  and  the  king  with  a  very  high 
hand,  and  on  whom  all  sorts  of  honours  had 
been  heaped,  even  to  that  of  the  distinguished 
post  of  Constable  of  France.  Most  of  the  ancient 
nobility  had  seceded  from  the  court  while  the 
Concini  were  in  the  ascendant.  De  Luynes,  to 
strengthen  his  position,  invited  them  to  return  ; 
he  also  liberated  M.  le  Prince  from  Vincennes, 
in  1619.  Two  months  before,  the  princess  had 
given  birth  there  to  a  daughter,  Anne  Gene- 
vieve de  Bourbon,  afterwards  the  celebrated 
Duchesse  de  Longueville,  and  sister  of  the  Grand 
Conde,  who  was  born  in    1621. 

Marie  de  Medicis  had  escaped  from  Blois  to 
Angouleme ;  but  as  De  Luynes  was  more  dis- 
posed to  show  his  power  by  being  grandly 
gracious  towards  his  enemies,  and  by  conciliatory 
rather  than  by  crushing  measures,  he  contrived  to 


78  OLD   PARIS 

make  overtures  of  peace  that  proved  acceptable 
to  the  queen-mother.  The  Bishop  of  Lugon 
effected  a  reconciHation  between  her  and  the  king, 
and  Marie  returned  to  Paris  after  the  signing 
of  the  treaty  of  Brissac. 

The  building  of  her  palace  of  Luxembourg  had 
progressed  so  rapidly  during  her  absence  that 
it  was  finished  in  1620.  It  was  then  the  most 
regular  in  its  architecture  of  any  of  the  royal 
residences.  Its  interior  decorations,  the  cor- 
nices, architraves,  etc.,  were  the  work  of  the  first 
sculptors  of  the  day,  and  much  of  its  panelling, 
destroyed  or  removed  during  subsequent  alter- 
ations, was  adorned  by  the  pencil  of  Poussin  or 
Simon  Vouet.  The  twenty-four  large  paintings 
- —  since  transferred  to  the  Louvre  —  of  the  chief 
events  in  the  life  of  Marie  de  Medicis  were, 
as  is  well  known,  executed  by  Rubens  after  the 
queen's  return.  Two  only  were  painted  in  Paris 
and  wholly  by  the  great  master  himself,  —  that  in 
which  Minerva  is  counselling  Henry  IV.  to  take 
Marie  de  Medicis  for  a  bride  (advice  the  wisdom 
of  which  Henry  would  scarcely  have  endorsed), 
and  the  one  representing  the  birth  of  Louis  XIII. 
These  two  fine  paintings  have  by  some  connois- 
seurs been  considered  the  chefs-d'oeuvre  of  the 
series.  The  others  were  sketched  by  Rubens 
in  Paris,  and  painted  at  Antwerp,  principally,  if 
not  entirely,  by  his  pupils  or  assistants,  with  the 
exception  of  some  finishing  touches  by  the 
master's  hand. 


peter  Paul  IRubene 


RUBENS'    TWENTY-FOUR   PAINTINGS         79 

Marie  used  to  sit  for  hours  together  conversing 
with  Rubens  while  he  was  engaged  in  painting. 
She  had  a  great  regard  for  him ;  and  his  learning 
and  varied  knowledge,  as  statesman,  ambassador, 
and  man  of  the  world,  as  well  as  his  great  skill 
in  his  art,  were  fully  appreciated  by  her. 

It  has  been  made  a  reproach  to  Marie  de 
Medicis  that  a  proposed  second  series  of  paint- 
ings, of  which  the  career  of  Henry  IV.  was  to 
furnish  the  subject,  was  not  the  first  put  in 
hand.  Rubens  is  said  to  have  prepared  sketches 
for  these  pictures  while  in  Paris,  but  that  the 
subsequent  misfortunes  of  his  patroness  pre- 
vented the  carrying  out  of  her  project.  It 
may,  however,  be  doubted  that  it  was  ever 
entertained. 

Most  unexpectedly  the  Due  de  Luynes  died 
of  camp  fever  while  heading  an  expedition  against 
the  unfortunate  Huguenots,  and  the  queen-mother 
immediately  resumed  all  her  old  ascendency  over 
the  weak  mind  of  her  son.  She  introduced  her 
surinteiidanty  the  Bishop  of  Lugon,  into  the 
council,  greatly  against  the  wish  of  the  king, 
who  was  shocked  at  the  licentiousness  of  his 
life. 

In  1622  the  Bishop  of  Lu^on  became  Cardinal 
de  Richelieu.  Marie,  who  had  proposed  to 
govern  the  kingdom  through  him,  looked  to 
find  him  pliant  and  subservient,  as  Concini  had 
been.     But   Richelieu  soon  found  means  to  pos- 


8o  OLD   PARIS 

sess  himself  of  the  whole  authority  of  the  crown, 
to  use  it,  as  his  admirers  say,  for  the  benefit  of 
the  state  and  the  glory  of  France. 

The  queen-mother,  disappointed  to  find  an 
opponent  instead  of  an  ally  in  the  man  whose 
advancement  she  had  zealously  promoted,  with 
her  usual  violence  complained  of  his  conduct, 
and  menaced  him  with  the  king's  displeasure. 
Being  compelled  to  desist  from  open  antag- 
onism, she  joined  in  plots  and  intrigues  to 
accomplish  his  overthrow.  Their  result  to  her 
was  humiliation,  to  some  of  her  accomplices 
death.  After  the  famous  "day  of  dupes,"  *  i  ith 
November,  1630,  when  it  was  for  some  hours 
believed,  even  by  the  queen-mother  herself,  that 
Richelieu's  downfall  was  accomplished,  a  secret 
interview  with  the  king  turned  the  scale  in  his 
favour.  The  Councillor  Marillac,  with  whom 
Marie  was  leagued,  was  arrested  and  beheaded, 
and  she  herself  was  put  under  arrest.  The 
choice  of  a  place  of  exile  being  allowed  her,  she 
selected  the  Chateau  de  Compiegne.  All  her 
servants  were  sent  to  the  Bastille.  The  plot  of 
Gaston  d'Orleans,  the  king's  brother,  to  excite  a 
civil  war  for  the  expulsion  of  Richelieu  was  also 
discovered,  and    his  partizans    declared    guilty  of 

*  This  epithet  was  applied  to  it  by  Marechal  Bassompierre, 
whose  rather  l&che  desertion  of  De  Richelieu,  on  this  occasion, 
cost  him  twelve  years'  confinement  in  the  Bastille,  where  he 
wrote  his  Memoires. 


RICHELIEU  RULES   FRANCE  8 1 

treason.  The  brave  Due  de  Montmorenci  was 
taken  prisoner,  and  by  the  cardinal's  order 
beheaded  at  Toulouse.* 

The  queen-mother,  fearing  that  Vincennes  or 
the  Bastille  might  be  her  own  ultimate  desti- 
nation, escaped  from  Compiegne  and  fled  to 
Brussels,  where  she  was  at  first  kindly  received 
and  entertained.  Paris,  which  she  had  adorned 
with  works  of  art,  and  which  was  indebted  to 
her  for  others  of  public  utility,  she  was  destined 
to  see  no  more,  A  stronger  hand  than  Louis's 
now  held  the  reins  of  government.  Yet  the  king 
sanctioned  the  severities  of  his  minister  towards 
his  mother.  He  was  glad  to  be  freed  from  her 
domineering  influence,  but  he  had  no  love  for 
Richelieu,  and  was  soon  jealous  of  his  power, 
jealous  of  the  state  and  splendour  with  which  he 
surrounded  himself ;  for  the  cardinal  far  excelled 
the  sovereign  in  outward  pomp,  in  the  richness  of 
his  equipages  and  the  expensiveness  of  his  estab- 
lishment. Louis  felt  the  bondage  he  was  held  in, 
but  feeble  in  constitution  and  mentally  weak,  he 
was  unable  to  break  from  the  control  of  the 
master  mind  that  governed  both  him  and  his 
kingdom. 

Richelieu    was    created    a   duke,  and  the  king 

*  The  king  declined  to  accept  his  confiscated  estate  of 
Chantilly.  He  gave  the  chateau,  parks  and  grounds  to  the 
duke's  sister,  Charlotte  de  Montmorenci,  Princesse  de  Conde, 
and  thus  this  fine  domain  passed  into  the  Conde  family. 


82  OLD   PARIS 

gave  him  the  government  of  Brittany.  But  the 
royal  authority  was  a  mere  shadow  to  his.  He 
humbled  the  haughty  nobles,  extinguished  the 
liberties  of  the  people,  and  oppressed  the 
Huguenots.  The  nation  groaned  under  its  heavy 
burden  of  taxation,  and  trembled  before  its  san- 
guinary administrator. 

Poor  Marie  de  Medicis,  a  wandering  exile, 
without  money  or  friends,  dependent  on  the 
benevolence  of  foreigners  for  shelter  and  sub- 
sistence, though  she  had  never  in  her  day  of 
power  and  prosperity  been  very  popular,  now 
excited  the  sympathy  and  compassion  of  the 
people  as  an  oppressed  queen,  an  unhappy  and 
injured  mother. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Richelieu's  Patronage  of  Literature.  —  Richelieu,  Chapelain,  and 
"  Le  Cid."  —  The  Rambouillet  Circle.  —  Its  Discordant 
Elements.  —  Social  Savoir-faire  of  the  Marquise.  —  Deprav- 
ity of  the  Court.  —  The  Queen  and  Madame  de  Hautefort. 

—  Richelieu  and  Anne  of  Austria.  —  Mademoiselle  de  La 
Fayette.  —  Louis  XIIL  as  a  Lover.  —  An  Evening  at  Ram- 
bouillet. —  The  Fiery  Calprenede.  —  "  Le  Grand  Epistolier." 

—  Cardinal  de  la  Valette.  —  Eaves-dropping.  —  "  Tel  Maitre, 
tel  Valet.  "  —  Gaston  d'Orleans. 

I  HE  period  which  French  writers  have 
named  ^^  Ic  grand  sicclc  Htteraire"  began 
with  the  accession  of  Cardinal  de 
Richelieu  to  power.  The  government  of  the 
kingdom  with  uncontrolled  absolute  authority  was 
entirely  in  his  hands,  and  no  sort  of  fame  was 
indifferent  to  him.  The  patronage  he  accorded 
to  literature  resulted  from  no  enlightened  sym- 
pathy with  men  of  letters  and  their  pursuits,  but 
from  an  undeviating  practice  of  seeking  his  own 
exaltation  by  any  and  every  means  that  presented 
itself.  To  become  the  recognized  patron  of  men 
of  learning,  and  especially  of  the  poets,  was  to 
enhance  his  glory  while  living  and  to  hand  down 
his  name  to  posterity  surrounded  by  a  halo  of 
laudatory  verse. 

83 


84  OLD   PARIS 

But  the  poets  most  favoured  by  Richelieu  were 
those  who,  of  the  numerous  verse-writers  of  that 
day,  are  now  even  by  name  scarcely  known,  and 
whose  works  generally  have  been  consigned  to 
oblivion.  Richelieu  himself  made  verses,  as  a  dis- 
traction from  the  heavy  cares  of  state,  and  pre- 
tended to  a  high,  if  not  the  highest,  place  amongst 
his  poets  and  gens  dc  /cttrcs.  But  he  could  brook 
no  rivals  near  his  throne  ;  and  as  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  kingdom  he  sent  to  the  Bastille,  or 
the  scaffold,  all  who  were  obnoxious  to  him  or 
were  obstacles  in  his  path,  so  in  the  world  of  let- 
ters he  trampled  on  genius  in  order  to  exalt  medi- 
ocrity in  the  shape  of  dramas  concocted  by  himself 
and  his  staff  of  versifiers  for  representation  at  the 
theatre  of  his  own  palace. 

Jean  Chapelain  —  one  of  those  critics  who  fail 
in  literature  —  first  obtained  favour  and  temporary 
fame,  and  became,  as  Boileau  said,  "  le  mieux  rente 
de  tous  les  beaux  esprits,'"  by  an  ode  addressed  "A 
son  Eminence  le  Cardinal  de  Richelieu,"  and  a 
critique  on  "  Le  Cid  "  of  le  grand  Corneille.  This 
chef-d'oeuvre  of  a  great  genius  displeased  His 
Eminence.  To  depreciate  it  was  a  delicate  piece 
of  flattery  that  met  with  its  certain  reward.  The 
great  cardinal,  like  many  other  so-called  great 
men,  had  vulnerable  points  open  to  successful 
attack  from  very  poor  creatures. 

The  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  was  more  impartial 
in  its  judgments,  and  its  voice  was  a  powerful  one. 


THE   KAMBOUILLET  CIRCLE        ■  85 

Its  circle  was  now  greatly  extended  ;  not  only  the 
celebrated  salon  bleu,  which  was  especially  devoted 
to  the  reading  of  new  works  and  conversations  on 
stated  subjects,  was  overflowing  with  guests,  but 
its  spacious  neighbour  and  rival  in  elegance,  the 
salon  jaunc,  and  often  the  whole  suite  of  recep- 
tion-rooms, was  thrown  open  to  them  ;  so  numer- 
ously were  the  reunions  of  the  marquise  attended. 
And  it  was  not  exclusively  a  literary  coterie, 
though  the  elite  of  the  gens  de  lettirs  were  present, 
and  obscurely-born  genius  and  rising  talent  sought 
and  received  their  welcome  and  encouragement. 
Courtiers  and  ladies  of  the  highest  rank,  who 
could  make  no  pretensions  to  learning  and  very 
little  to  esprit,  mingled  with  the  throng ;  attracted 
by  the  polished  ease  and  general  tone  of  good- 
breeding  that  prevailed  in  the  crowded  salons  of 
Rambouillet,  and  contrasted  so  strikingly  with  the 
roughness  and  grossness  of  the  manners  of  the 
court. 

It  was  not  necessary  to  produce  quarterings  of 
nobility  to  obtain  an  introduction  to  the  assemblies 
of  the  marquise  ;  but  intelligence,  talent,  and  above 
all  good  manners,  were  indispensable  qualifications 
for  that  honour.  Merit,  there,  ranked  above 
birth ;  esprit  in  itself  was  reckoned  a  dignity, 
and  to  literature  and  its  professors  was  accorded 
a  degree  of  consideration  which  hitherto  the 
grandees  of  society  had  rarely,  if  ever,  vouchsafed 
to  them.     The  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  served  also 


86  OLD   PARIS 

as  a  school  of  manners  for  the  court.  The  tone 
of  refinement  it  was  necessary  to  observe  there 
was  a  protest  against  the  open  depravity,  both  of 
conckict  and  speech,  which  survived  in  the  society 
of  the  Louvre,  long  after  the  evil  example  of 
Henry  IV.  had  ceased  to  give  sanction  to  it. 

The  salons  of  Rambouillet  afforded,  no  doubt, 
many  examples  of  high-flown  sentimentality  and 
affectation,  as  well  as  of  overstrained  or  stilted 
politeness.  And  it  has  been  suspected  that 
before  the  period  of  its  greatest  vogue  and  impor- 
tance (from  1635  to  1645)  there  existed  amongst 
the  society  that  frequented  the  hotel,  composed 
as  it  was  of  persons  of  such  different  social  grades, 
a  carefully  suppressed  undercurrent  of  mutual  dis- 
dain. The  pride  of  birth,  the  pride  of  intellect, 
the  pride  of  purse,  each  received  a  shock  from  the 
presence  of  the  others,  and  could  not  immediately 
amalgamate,  though  represented  there  only  by  the 
elite  of  each  class.  It  argues  in  the  hostess  the 
possession  of  a  high  degree  of  tact  and  social 
savoii'-faire  to  have  succeeded  so  happily  in  sooth- 
ing the  ruffled  spirits  of  her  high  and  mighty 
guests,  and  bringing  the  discordant  elements  in 
her  circle  to  act  so  favourably  on  each  other  as  to 
produce  that  general  tone  of  good  breeding,  that 
courtesy  of  manner,  that  suavity  of  expression  — 
indicating  respect  for  others  as  well  as  self-respect 
—  which  characterized  those  who  had  mixed  with 
the  sociH^ polie  of  Rambouillet. 


DEPRAVITY  OF   THE    COURT  8/ 

From  Rambouillet  emanated  "  le  sentiment  de 
toiitcs  les  bicnse'ancc's,'"  and  a  tone  of  refinement 
which,  with  the  spread  of  the  social  instinct, 
gradually  imbued  French  society  generally.  It 
is  one  of  the  glories  of  that  celebrated  hotel 
that  its  influence  on  the  manners  of  the  age 
was  felt  by  all  classes  and  conditions,  even  to 
the  inferior  degrees  of  the  social  scale,  and  has 
never,  through  all  the  changing  fortunes  of  the 
nation,  become  wholly  extinct.  If  no  great 
amendment  was  wrought  by  its  influence  on 
the  morals  of  the  age,  at  least  the  attempt  to 
reform  them  was  made  by  inculcating  a  respect 
for  purity  of  life,  of  which  the  unblemished  one 
of  the  marquise  afforded  an  example.  For  a 
full  century  —  from  the  time  of  Francis  I.  to 
the  end  of  the  reign  of  Henry  IV. — the  court 
(and  there  was  no  other  society)  had  been 
deeply  plunged  in  vice.  The  regency  of  Marie 
de  Medicis  produced  no  improvement  —  though 
no  well-substantiated  charge  of  immorality  has 
been  brought  against  her.  Richelieu's  private 
life  was  far  from  blameless,  and  though  Louis 
XIII.  did  not  pursue  a  depraved  career,  like  his 
father  and  his  son,  his  example  had  no  weight 
whatever,  because  of  his  gloomy  seclusion,  his 
stern  neglect  of  his  wife,  his  harsh,  perhaps 
unjust  suspicions  of  her,  and  their  mutual  in- 
difference, if  not  actual  dislike. 

Louis    had    read   "  Astree,"    and    had    adopted 


88  OLD   PARIS 

D'Urfe's  system  of  "  honnete  amitie."  Madame 
de  Hautefort,  afterwards  Duchesse  de  Schom- 
berg,  but  who  was  then  one  of  the  queen's 
dames  dWionnctn-,  was  the  object  of  this  tenderly 
respectful  flame,  after  the  Duchesse  de  Luynes 
became  Duchesse  de  Chevreuse.  Madame  de 
Hautefort  was  much  attached  to  the  queen,  and 
the  two  ladies  seem  to  have  amused  themselves 
greatly  at  the  expense  of  the  king.  It  was  his 
custom  to  go  daily  to  the  gallery  of  the  Louvre, 
where  the  queen  and  her  ladies  assemble  to 
chatter  and  laugh  and  amuse  themselves ;  for 
Anne  was  both  desperately  ignorant  and  indo- 
lent. She  delighted  in  petty  intrigue,  and  her 
laissez-allcr  disposition  saved  her  from  many 
mortifications.  Louis  took  no  notice  whatever 
of  his  wife,  but  sat  down  at  some  distance  from 
the  group  and  gazed  long  and  sadly  on  Madame 
de  Hautefort.  The  queen,  after  a  time,  would 
bid  her  "go  and  talk  to  him  for  pity's  sake,"  when 
he  would  draw  her  aside,  or  beckon  her  into  the 
deep  recess  of  some  window,  and  there  tell  her 
of  his  amusements ;  either  of  the  chase,  or  of  his 
gardening,  and  carpentering  —  for  he  excelled  in 
these  occupations.  He  was  also  a  good  barber, 
and  had  recently  practised  on  the  gentlemen  of 
his  household  who  wore  beards,  leaving  them 
only  a  small  tuft  of  hair  on  the  centre  of  the 
chin.  This  became,  and  still  is,  as  we  all  know, 
a  fashion  in   France ;    the  tuft  of  hair,   in    com- 


RICHELIEU  AND   ANNE    OF  AUSTRIA         89 

pliment  to  the  royal  barber,  being  called  "  la 
royahy  * 

When  these  subjects  failed,  he  descanted  on 
the  politics  of  the  day,  or  told  his  fair  berg^re 
how  many  Huguenots  his  army,  by  the  help  of 
Heaven,  had  slain.  The  influence  of  Madame 
de  Hautefort  was  very  great  with  the  king, 
but  he  inspired  in  her  no  feeling  beyond  pity. 
Ultimately,  in  her  endeavours  to  serve  the  queen, 
she  became  suspected  by  the  cardinal,  and  was 
banished  from  the  court.  For  Richelieu  delighted 
to  humiliate  Anne  of  Austria,  because  of  her 
haughty  rejection  of  the  loverlike  advances  he 
had  presumed  to  make  towards  her,  and  Madame 
de  Hautefort,  as  he  was  aware,  had  greatly  aided 
her  to  escape  the  consequences  of  her  share  in 
a  plot  or  secret  correspondence  with  Spain. 

The  king  did  not  immediately  reconcile  him- 
self to  the  loss  of  the  society  of  Madame  de 
Hautefort,  but  the  wily  cardinal  contrived  to 
throw  in  his  way  a  far  more  sympathetic  young 
lady  —  Mademoiselle  de  La  Fayette.  She  appears 
to  have  been  really  interested  in  Louis,  and  even 

*  This    fancy    of    the    king    produced    several    chansonnettes 
which  were  sung  in  the  streets ;  the  gentlemen  who  had  under- 
gone the  operation  being  often  saluted  with  : 
"  Helas  !  ma  pauvre  barbe, 
Qu'es  qui  t'a  faite  ainsi? 
C'est  le  grand  roi,  Louis, 
Troisieme  de  ce  nom, 
Qui  toute  a  ebarbe  sa  maison,"  etc.,  etc. 


90  OLD   PARIS 

to  have  felt  for  him  a  very  warm  attachment. 
He,  who  is  said  never  to  have  felt  either  friend- 
ship or  love  for  any  one,  or  to  have  regarded 
his  greatest  favourites  as  anything  more  to  him 
than  slaves  created  to  contribute  to  his  pleasures 
and  amusements,  managed  to  infuse  into  this 
new  liaison  a  large  dash  of  sentiment.  So  much, 
indeed,  that  momentarily  forgetful  of  the  D'Urfe 
principles  upon  which  he  so  piqued  himself,  he 
proposed  to  Mademoiselle  de  La  Fayette  to  share 
with  him  his  chateau  of  St.  Germain,  that  they 
might  there  live  for  each  other  alone. 

La  belle  demoiselle  was  alarmed,  and  resolved 
to  seek  refuge  in  a  convent  from  the  friend  who 
had  become  her  lover.  His  entreaties  prevailed 
not  to  shake  her  resolution,  and  Vincent  de  Paul, 
who  was  the  king's  spiritual  director,  used  every 
argument  to  confirm  her  in  it.  Fearing  ill  con- 
sequences from  delay,  he  urged  on  her  the 
necessity  of  at  once  acting  on  her  resolve,  and 
obtained  permission  to  conduct  her  himself  to 
the  Carmelites.  There  Louis  visited  her;  for 
convent  gates  were  not  closed  to  the  kings  of 
France.  It  was  their  royal  prerogative  to  enter 
any  of  the  religious  houses  whenever  they  would. 
And  Louis  availed  himself  of  it  to  talk  to  the 
fair  penitent  for  hours  together  of  politics  and 
affairs  of  state.  She  had  fled  from  a  phantom. 
The  proposal  at  which  virtue  took  alarm,  was 
uttered    under    the    influence    of  a    feeling    that 


AN  EVENING  AT  RAMBOUILLET  9 1 

passed  away  when  the  words  that  gave  expres- 
sion to  it  were  spoken.  But  lest  there  should 
be  any  revival,  Father  Vincent  kept  a  vigilant 
eye  on  the  sentimental  friends.  He  remon- 
strated, too,  with  the  king  on  the  scandal  likely 
to  arise  from  his  passing  so  much  of  his  time 
in  a  nunnery;  and  at  Iqjigth  he  prevailed  on 
Mademoiselle  de  La  Fayette,  still  in  her  novi- 
tiate, to  refuse  to  receive  his  visits,  and  to 
delay  not  her  full  profession  as  a  nun. 

When,  in  1631,  Marie  de  Medicis  was  finally 
banished  from  the  court,  many  of  the  fetes  and 
other  gaieties  she  had  introduced  there  were  ban- 
ished also.  The  tristesse  that  ensued  caused  a 
great  influx  of  new  visitors  at  the  Hotel  de 
Rambouillet.  There  the  grands  seigneurs  and 
grandes  dames,  though  they  found  fewer  noisy 
amusements  and  less  boisterous  mirth,  yet  met 
with  new  subjects  of  interest.  And  as  novelty 
is  always  attractive,  the  court  was  almost  de- 
serted, except  by  those  whose  attendance  was 
obligatory. 

It  was  a  warm  evening  in  the  genial  month  of 
May.  The  wide  doors  that  separated  the  suite 
of  salons  were  removed  from  their  hinges  ;  the 
long  windows  thrown  open.  Outside  each  of 
them  was  a  large  basketful  of  sweet  -  scented 
flowers,  placed  on  a  low  stand.  Some  of  the 
company,  allured  by  the  beauty  of  the  evening, 
were  promenading  in    the   garden.      A   numerous 


92  OLD  PARIS 

circle  had  assembled  in  the  one  vast  saloon,  as  it 
then  appeared  to  be ;  the  Venetian  mirrors  at 
either  end  reflecting,  and  repeating  the  reflexion, 
ad  infinitum,  of  the  lighted  lamps  and  the  moving 
groups  of  guests.  Jean  Louis  Balzac  was  there, 
and  Chapelain  —  he  was  considered  an  oracle, 
then;  alas  for  his  reputation,  that  he  published 
those  first  six  books  of  his  terrible  "  Pucelle." 
There  was  Pierre  Corneille  —  no  "Cid,"  as  yet  — 
and  young  Gaultier  de  la  Calprenede,  just  ventur- 
ing to  try  his  skill  in  a  long  romance  after  the 
D'Urfe  fashion.  Calprenede  was  " ««  gentil- 
homme  de  V anticJiavihrc  du  roi"  — a  Gascon,  fiery 
and  impetuous,  with  his  hand  ever  on  his  sword- 
hilt,  ready  at  any  hour  to  unsheathe  his  weapon 
and  to  defend  his  works  a  toute  ontrance. 

Calprenede  had  written  a  short  dramatic  piece 
which  had  been  submitted  to  His  Eminence,  who 
had  greatly  dispraised  it,  and  said  that  the  least 
of  its  faults  was  that  it  was  written  in  "  vers 
laches!'  At  the  word  ''laches"  CalprenMe  fired 
up,  as  if  at  a  personal  insult.  "  Cadedis ! "  he 
exclaimed,  clapping  his  hand  on  his  sword,  ''com- 
ment laches  ?  il  ny  a  jamais  en  rien  de  lacJie  dans 
la  maison  de  la  Calprenhle  .^  "  His  Eminence  did 
not,  as  might  have  been  expected,  reply  "  Off  with 
his  head,"  as  he  would  willingly  have  done  to 
another  Buckingham,  who,  like  himself,  had  ven- 
tured to  look  with  eyes  of  loving  admiration  on 
the  pious  coquette,  Anne  of  Austria. 


«Z^    GRAND    EPISTOLIER"  93 

But  to  return  to  the  salon  bleu.  A  learned 
conversation  was  going  on,  in  which  Balzac  was 
the  chief  speaker.  He  was  arguing  for  the 
adoption  into  the  French  language  of  the  word 
urbanite.  It  was  not  then  French  ;  and,  indeed, 
the  thing  signified  had  until  lately  been  almost  a 
stranger  in  the  land.  But  it  had  found  a  home 
at  Rambouillet,  and  it  was  just  and  fit  that  its 
naturalization  in  France  should  be  accomplished 
there  by  its  sanction  of  the  word  best  suited  to 
describe  it. 

Jean  Louis  Balzac  was  eloquent,  both  as  a  writer 
and  speaker,  but  in  a  style  too  sonorous,  too 
Johnsonian.  Some  one  has  irreverently  spoken 
of  it,  as  " /cz  langiie  fraiiqaise  a  la  torture.''  His 
early  correspondence  with  Madame  de  Rambouillet, 
on  the  Romans  and  their  history,  is  in  a  high  de- 
gree stilted  and  inflated.  But  Balzac  had  become 
sensible  of  this  defect,  and  resolved  to  correct  it. 
Prose  writers  who  used  the  mother  tongue  were 
few  :  consequently  there  were  no  approved  French 
models  to  form  a  style  upon.  Idyls,  sonnets,  and 
odes  ;  chansons,  and  chansonnettes,  and  short  ver- 
sified pikes  de  t/iMtre,  sufficed  to  make  a  literary 
reputation  ;  and  in  them  the  witty  and  epigram- 
matic spirit  of  the  nation  was  clearly  enough  ap- 
parent, but  not  the  force  and  beauty  of  the  lan- 
guage. Very  few,  indeed,  were  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with  it.  Amongst  these  few  Balzac,  "  le 
grand  ipistolier"   was    chief.      He    had    secluded 


94  OLD   PARIS 

himself  for  some  years,  and  devoted  them  exclu- 
sively to  the  study  of  language  and  the  improve- 
ment of  his  style.  The  purity  and  elegance  with 
which  the  French  tongue  was  spoken  and  written 
later  on  in  the  seventeenth  century  are  in  a  great 
measure  due  to  Balzac.  He  was  also  the  first 
who  excelled  in  epistolary  writing. 

The  literary  men  assembled  at  this  date  (1631) 
in  the  salons  of  Rambouillet  are  all  young  —  Balzac, 
who  is  thirty-nine,  is  a  veteran  amongst  them.* 
Only  the  historian  Vaugelas  is  his  senior ;  unless 
the  great  cardinal's  poet  and  humble  servant, 
Boisrobert,  be  honoured  with  a  place  among  Ics 
gens  de  lettres.  Boisrobert  was  at  the  hotel,  on 
the  occasion  above  referred  to,  in  the  quality  of 
political  spy.  He  was  commissioned  to  keep  a 
watchful  eye  on  all  that  was  done,  and  an  open 
ear  to  all  that  was  said  by  Madame  la  Princesse 
de  Conde  (sister  of  the  Duke  de  Montmorenci) 
and  the  Cardinal  de  la  Valette,  Richelieu's  brother, 
and  like  himself  a  soldier-priest.  La  princesse,  in 
a  cosy  arm-chair,  and  well  out  of  earshot  of  the 
learned  conversation  of  the  litterateurs  and  les 
dames  savantes,  is  in  close  confidential  confabu- 
lation with  the   cardinal,  who  is  seated  on  a  low 

*  The  old  poet  Malherbe  had  died  three  years  before,  and 
Ogier  de  Gombauld,  whose  pension  of  1200  ecus  was  reduced  to 
400  francs,  did  not  often  appear.  The  marquise  frequently  and 
anonymously  relieved  his  distress,  and  furnished  him  with  re- 
spectable clothing  for  his  occasional  visits. 


EAVES-DROPPING  95 

Stool,  drawn  up  very  close  to  the  arm-chair  of  the 
princess. 

(It  may  be  observed  here,  eti  passant,  that  the 
cardinal  is  the  recognized  ^^Jionnete  hoinnie"  of 
Madame  la  Princesse,  according  to  the  rules  of 
the  establishment,  to  be  referred  to  by-and-by.) 

Most  provokingly,  Boisrobert  sees  that  much  is 
being  said,  but  not  a  syllable  reaches  his  ear ;  and 
he  is  too  well-known  to  venture  to  approach  and 
dexterously  to  glide  into  or  interrupt  the  conver- 
sation. The  buzz  and  the  hum  of  voices  around 
Balzac,  the  occasional  ting-tang  of  a  lute  in  the 
music  room,  and  the  twittering  of  that  pretty 
spin  net,  are  all  in  league  with  these  earnest 
talkers,  whose  confidences  at  last  come  to  an  end 
with  a  laugh  that  to  Boisrobert's  ears  has  a  deri- 
sive sound,  but  makes  him  no  wiser  as  to  the  sub- 
ject of  the  discourse.  This  he  reported  to  his 
master,  who  forthwith  despatched  the  wily  Pere 
Josephe,  to  say  to  the  marquise  that  His  Emi- 
nence suspected  his  brother  and  Madame  la  Prin- 
cesse of  carrying  on  intrigues  with  the  Spanish 
Court,  where  the  Marquis  de  Rambouillet  was 
then  ambassador,  and  that  he  desired,  therefore, 
to  know  all  that  was  said  by  them  in  her  saion  on 
the  subject  of  Spanish  affairs. 

The  marquise  replied,  "  she  did  not  believe  that 
Cardinal  de  la  Valette  and  the  princess  were 
engaged  in  any  intrigues  on  the  subject ;  but,  if 
they  were,  that   His  Eminence  must  excuse  her 


96  OLD   PARIS 

from  playing  the  part  of  spy  on  those  who  fre- 
quented her  salons y 

Richelieu  had  already  deprived  Rambouillet  of 
one  of  the  most  lively  of  its  prciix  chevaliers —  the 
Marechal  de  Bassompierre,  who  had  too  prema- 
turely rejoiced  over  the  supposed  downfall  of  the 
minister.  Le  marechal's  courtly  and  chivalric 
devotion  to  the  fair  sex  had  made  Bassompierre 
and  gallantry  almost  synonymous  terms.  His 
valet,  who  had  lived  with  him  many  years,  aspired 
to  similar  renown,  and  had  fully  established  his 
reputation  as  a  squire  of  dames  ;  the  proverb  "Tel 
mattre,  te I  valet,''  is  said  to  have  been  first  applied 
to  this  gallant  knight  and  his  trusty  squire.  Vin- 
cent Voiture  was  another  absentee.  When  in 
Paris,  he  lived  so  constantly  at  the  Hotel  de 
Rambouillet,  that  he  was  familiarly  called  "  Voiture 
de  I'Hotel."  He  was  attached  to  the  household  of 
Gaston  d'Orleans,  the  king's  brother,  who  was 
then  in  Lorraine,  having  failed  in  his  plots  against 
the  cardinal,  and  abandoned  his  friends,  who  now 
suffered  for  his  pusillanimity. 

Gaston  was  the  father  of  the  celebrated  Grande 
Mademoiselle.  At  this  time  she  was  about  five 
years  of  age.  Her  mother,  who  had  died  in  giving 
birth  to  her,  was  the  beautiful  Mademoiselle  de 
Montpensier,  heiress  to  the  immense  wealth  of 
the  House  of  Guise,  and  also  allied  to  the  crown. 
Louis  XHL,  though  he  had  neither  affection  nor 
respect  for  Anne  of  Austria,  was  extraordinarily 


GASTON  D'ORLEANS  9/ 

jealous  of  any  attentions  that  were  paid  to  her, 
even  by  his  boy-brother,  whom  he  hated.  He 
suspected  them  of  conspiring  together  to  dethrone 
him,  with  a  view  of  then  marrying  and  usurping 
his  authority.  Gaston  was  therefore  compelled 
to  take  a  wife  ;  and,  much  against  his  will,  married 
the  young  and  beautiful  bride  Louis  found  for 
him.  She  died  the  following  year.  Gaston  after- 
wards married  one  of  the  princesses  of  the  house 
of  Lorraine ;  pleasing  himself  in  his  second  mar- 
riage, and  thereby  sorely  displeasing  the  king. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

Boisrobert.  —  M.  le  Prince.  —  The  Mysterious  Oublieuse. — Her 
Lute  and  her  Song.  —  La  Belle  Angelique  Paulet.  —  Her 
Music  and  Dancing.  —  The  Jealous  Nightingales.  —  A  Pre- 
sumptuous Bourgeois.  —  Patriotism,  Religion,  and  Love.  — 
A  Noble  Lover.  —  Galants  et  Honnetes  Hommes.  —  Social 
Supremacy  of  Woman. 

iHE  great  cardinal,  after  1630,  no  longer 
frequented  the  salons  where  so  many 
were  welcomed  whom  he  regarded 
either  as  his  literary  rivals  or  political  foes.  Had 
he  ventured  to  do  so,  he  would  have  met  there 
also,  in  the  course  of  the  next  few  years,  some 
bitter  personal  enemies  in  the  representatives  of 
those  families,  several  of  whose  members  had 
been  sent  by  him  to  the  scaffold.  His  favourite 
and  secretary,  as  well  as  literary  protege,  Bois- 
robert —  a  man  of  some  wit  and  much  pleas- 
antry, and  who  was  also  fond  of  the  society  of 
men  of  letters  —  kept  a  watchful  eye  open  on  the 
company  for  him.  Madame  la  Princesse  he  now 
suspected  of  intriguing  with  Spain  ;  a  few  years 
later  on,  he  knew  that  she  abhorred  the  man 
whom  she  regarded  as  the  murderer  of  her 
brother,  Montmorenci.  But  the  enmity  of  Mon- 
sieur le  Prince  —  who,  though  extremely  wealthy, 

98 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   OUBLIEUSE  99 

was  extremely  parsimonious  and  avaricious  —  was 
greatly  modified  by  the  gift  of  his  brother-in-law's 
confiscated  estate  of  Chantilly.  His  three  years' 
sojourn  at  Vincennes  had  also  had  a  subduing 
effect  both  on  his  resentment  and  his  courage. 

Richelieu  had  no  persistent  enemy  in  him. 
But  even  then,  163 1,  he  desired  to  repress  the 
mutinous  spirit,  and  to  alienate  from  the  court 
the  youth  who  stood  beside  the  Prince  de  Conde 
listening  to  Balzac.  This  youth  of  eighteen 
was  the  Prince  de  Marsillac  (de  La  Rochefoucauld 
of  "  Les  Maximes").  Like  many  others  of  the 
company  who  did  not  join  in  the  conversation  of 
the  literary  circle,  they  had  been  drawn  away 
from  it  by  the  sound  of  music,  which  now  and 
then  reached  them  faintly  from  a  distance,  yet 
not  from  the  music-room.  It  was  the  sound  of  a 
lute,  very  skilfully  played. 

The  performer  was  a  woman.  She  stood 
outside  the  open  window  at  the  extreme  end  of 
the  suite  of  salons.  The  dense  foliage  of  a 
large  tree  threw  a  deep  shadow  over  her,  and  she 
seemed  to  avoid  every  flickering  ray  of  light 
which,  as  the  guests  from  time  to  time  moved, 
fell  on  the  pathway  from  the  lamps  of  the  salons. 
"  C'cst  7ine  onblieusc,''  said  one  of  the  ladies,  as 
the  woman  approached  the  window,  and,  curtsey- 
ing gracefully,  placed  before  the  audience  her 
music  had  drawn  thither  a  large  Flemish  basket, 
decorated  with  red  ribands,  and  filled  with  wafer- 


lOO  OLD   PARIS 

cakes,  or  oiibliettcs,  then  hastily  drew  back. 
Curiosity  was  piqued.  The  night  was  clear  and 
starlight,  and  it  was  perceived  that  although  her 
dress  was  of  the  fashion  of  the  class  she  repre- 
sented, like  her  basket,  it  was  unusually  natty 
and  coquettish. 

The  short  linen  petticoat  was  looped  up  with 
red  ribands  and  very  jaunty  bows;  her  '' calle,'' 
or  coif,  which  was  rather  ample,  as  if  for  con- 
cealment, was  also  bordered  and  tied  with  ribands 
of  the  same  colour.  She  was  neither  barefooted 
nor  shod  with  heavy  sabots,  but  wore  coloured 
stockings  with  elaborately -worked  clocks,  and 
pretty  shoes,  with  the  bands,  bows,  and  heels  a  la 
Louis  Treize,  or  as  they  should  rather  be  called, 
a  la  Anne  d'Autriche,  as  she  introduced  them 
from  Spain. 

"Dicii!  quelle  jolie  main  blanche  et  potelee !'' 
said  young  Marsillac,  as  the  mysterious  '' oubli- 
euse"  struck  a  full  chord  with  a  firm  and  practised 
hand,  and  played  the  air  of  a  chanson  by  Malherbe, 
then  greatly  in  vogue. 

"Why  not  sing  it .-' "  said  Julie  d'Angennes. 
"  It  is  one  of  Angelique  Paulet's  favourite  songs. 
I  must  ask  mamma,"  she  continued,  "  who  this 
stranger  woman  is." 

Madame  de  Rambouillet  protested  she  did 
not  know,  and  that  inquiry  must  be  made  how 
she  got  into  the  grounds. 

"  Cest  une  laideron,''  said  Monsieur  le  Prince, 
"or  she'd  show  us  her  face." 


LA    BELLE   ANGELIQUE   PAULET  lOI 

"  Peut-etre  Jine  evipoisonneiisey  whispered  an- 
other to  a  little  group  of  ladies  who  were  admiring 
the  Flemish  basket  and  eating  the  oubliettes. 

This  remark  caused  some  commotion,  so 
general  was  the  dread  and  suspicion  of  poison  in 
those  days.  But  all  this  time  the  lute  went  ting- 
tang,  ting-tang,  merrily  on.  At  the  word 
"poison"  a  little  low  laugh  seemed  to  issue  from 
the  coif,  and  the  mysterious  personage  stepped 
forward,  drew  back  her  basket,  and  placed  it 
by  her  side.  Again  she  struck  her  lute,  and 
began  the  same  air;  but  there  was  a  general 
demand  for  the  words.  Nothing  daunted,  she 
advanced  more  directly  in  front  of  the  window,  as 
if  to  face  her  audience,  preluded  a  little,  then 
began  her  song  in  a  rich,  full,  sweet  voice,  that 
sympathetically  thrilled  through  every  auditor. 
^^  Mais,  c  est  Aiigelique  !  c' est  Ange'lique!"  was  the 
general  exclamation.  The  coif  of  the  oblieuse 
fell,  and  revealed  Mademoiselle  Paulet  to  her 
friends  and  admirers.* 

"When  that  great  king,"  says  Mademoiselle 
de  Scudery,  speaking  of  Henry  IV.,  "gave  what 
he  called  his  heart  to  any  belle  fille  of  the  queen's 
court,  it  was  always  injurious  to  her  reputation." 
And  so  it  proved  to  Angelique  Paulet's,  though 

*  This  is  not  an  imaginary  scene.  It  took  place  at  the  Hotel 
de  Rambouillet.  Mademoiselle  Paulet  appears  to  have  been 
fond  of  assuming  these  disguises,  and  to  have  introduced  the 
practice  amongst  the  ladies  of  Rambouillet. 


I02  OLD   PARIS 

when  Henry's  last  visit  was  paid  to  Angeliqiie  on 
the  morning  of  his  death,  she  was  but  in  her 
seventeenth  year.  Her  father  is  said  to  have 
been  by  no  means  unwilHng  to  obtain  lucrative 
and  responsible  posts  through  the  favour 
enjoyed  by  his  daughter,  while  her  mother,  a 
handsome  woman  of  low  birth,  who  died  shortly 
before  the  assassination  of  the  king,  was  so 
constantly  engaged  in  intrigue,  that  she  entirely 
neglected  her,  and  gave  her  over  from  childhood 
to  the  charge  of  servants. 

Angelique  at  an  early  age  became  an  orphan, 
with  a  disputed  inheritance,  of  which  the  laws 
(then  in  a  most  unsatisfactory  state)  gave  her 
only  a  portion,  after  some  years  of  litigation. 
Madame  de  Rambouillet  had  had  a  great  regard 
for  her  as  a  young  girl,  and  desired  to  welcome 
her  to  her  hotel;  but  the  blemish  on  her  reputa- 
tion must  first  be  effaced,  and  "  il  fallait,''  says 
a  French  writer,  "  dii  temps  pour  la  laisscr 
piirgcry  During  that  time  she  resided  with 
the  Comtesse  de  Clermont  d'Entragues,  a  woman 
of  great  distinction  and  very  high  character. 
Under  her  auspices  Mademoiselle  Paulet  was 
received  at  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet. 

She  excelled  in  dancing  —  the  fashionable  ac- 
complishment of  the  day  —  and  as  a  vocalist  and 
skilful  performer  on  the  theorbe  and  lute  she 
had  no  rival.  Music  was  scarcely  studied  at  all 
in  France  at  that  time,  and  Angelique's  simple 


THE  JEALOUS  NIGHTINGALES  IO3 

airs,  sung  with  natural  taste,  and  a  full,  sweet 
voice,  no  doubt  enraptured  her  hearers.  There 
must  have  been  some  real  charm  in  those 
exquisite  notes  that  held  her  listeners  spell- 
bound. The  poetic  anecdote  invented  to  convey 
an  idea  of  their  beauty  seems  to  bear  evidence 
of  it.  She  is  said  to  have  been  singing  to  her 
lute  in  a  part  of  the  gardens  frequented  by 
nightingales,  and  that  two  of  these  feathered 
songsters  left  the  trees  and  perched  on  the 
edge  of  a  fountain  to  listen.  As  she  continued 
warbling  on,  now  in  a  full,  rich  strain,  now  soft, 
subdued,  and  tender,  the  listening  birds  strove 
at  times  to  emulate  her  tuneful  ditty.  In  vain, 
in  vain, — ^  their  heavenly  gift  of  song  is  gone. 
Still  they  listen,  jealous,  despairing,  yet  entranced. 
But  when  the  sweet  strain  ceased,  the  nightin- 
gales drooped  and  died ! 

So  highly  was  she  esteemed  at  Rambouillet, 
that  on  the  occasion  of  her  first  visit  to  the  Hotel 
the  marquise  sent  a  troop  of  the  prettiest  girls  of 
the  place,  as  well  as  those  of  her  own  household, 
to  meet  her  at  her  entrance  on  the  Rambouillet 
domain.  Their  dresses  were  wreathed  with  flow- 
ers, and  one  of  the  girls,  selected  as  the  prettiest, 
carried  an  ornamented  basket,  containing  the  keys 
of  the  chateau.  These,  on  bended  knee,  she  pre- 
sented to  the  much-honoured  visitor,  who,  as  she 
passed  over  the  drawbridge,  was  saluted  also  by 
the    firing    of    the    two    small    cannon.       She    is 


I04  OLD   PARIS 

described  as  exceedingly  pretty,  with  a  brilliant 
complexion,  golden  hair,  and  graceful  figure.  In 
the  little  drawing-room  dramas  that  were  per- 
formed at  Rambouillet,  either  in  a  small  theatre 
or  fitted-up  salon,  Mademoiselle  Paulet  —  dressed 
as  a  nymph  —  was  accustomed  to  dance  and 
sing  between  the  acts.  This  performance  being 
substituted  for  "  the  usual  interlude  of  the  hired 
violins." 

Angelique  was  no  longer  in  her  prcmiare 
jcunesse.  In  1631  she  was  full  thirty-seven. 
Tallemant  des  Reaux,  a  constant  frequenter  of 
Rambouillet,  says  she  was  called  "/«  lio?ine,  a 
cause  dc  scs  yeux  vifs,  scs  cJicveiLX  roitx,  sa  fierti 
et  courage r  He  adds  that  the  prudery  of  this 
lioness  was  excessive,  insupportable ;  and  that 
some  three  years  before  she  shook  her  mane 
violently,  and  roared  with  anger  when  a  rich 
niarcJiand  linger  of  the  neighbourhood  presumed 
to  fall  in  love  with  her,  and  to  hire  a  band  of 
serenaders  to  sing  chansonnettes  amoiirenses,  and 
to  play  the  lute  and  violin  beneath  her  windows. 
The  presumption  de  cet  animal  la,  when,  on  the 
return  of  the  king  from  the  siege  of  Rochelle 
(the  marchand  was  ^' capitaine  de  son  gnartier"), 
he  drew  up  his  men,  all  decked  with  green  ribands 

—  green  being  a  colour  affected  by  the  fair  one 

—  and  saluted  her  with  a  salvo  of  musketry, 
excited  her  boundless  indignation. 

But    the    fair    Angelique    was    compelled    to 


A    PRESUMPTUOUS  LOVER  IO5 

smooth  her  brow,  and  if  not  to  smile  graciously 
on  the  gallant  inarchand  linger,  at  least  not  to 
frown  very  much  upon  him.  For  it  came  into 
his  mind  to  celebrate  the  cardinal's  triumph  at 
Rochelle  by  a  fete,  at  which  he  prayed  all  the 
wealthy  and  great  of  his  qiiaTtier  to  condescend 
to  assist.  He  possessed  a  good  house,  with  a 
fine  garden ;  was  decidedly  a  man  of  substance, 
and  doubtless  of  some  influence,  though  the 
historian  of  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  does  not 
give  his  name.  At  all  events  the  marquise 
approved  his  idea,  and  with  her  daughter  and 
some  of  the  ladies  of  her  society  —  amongst  them 
Mademoiselle  Paulet  —  condescendingly  graced  the 
festive  scene  with  her  presence. 

In  thus  honouring  a  rich  linendraper,  the 
marquise,  in  her  quality  of  grande  dame,  be- 
lieved that  she  encouraged  in  persons  of  his 
class  the  patriotic  fervour  and  religious  enthu- 
siasm at  the  discomfiture  of  the  Huguenots  of 
Rochelle,  of  which  her  protege  seemed  to  set 
so  praiseworthy  an  example.  But  les  beaiix  yeiix 
of  Mademoiselle  Paulet  on  this  occasion  influ- 
enced the  gallant  bourgeois  far  more  potently 
than  either  patriotism  or  religious  zeal.  She 
was  the  queen  to  whom  he  would  willingly 
have  sworn  fealty ;  she  was  the  goddess  at 
whose  shrine  he  would  have  worshipped.  But 
his  ardent  loyalty  and  devotion,  poor  fellow, 
received    a    check,    and    it    is    to    be    hoped    an 


I06  OLD   PARIS 

effectual  cure,  in  the  scorn  with  which  they 
were  repelled. 

Had  not  a  king  sighed  for  Mademoiselle  Ang6- 
lique  ?  Had  not  two  princes  of  Lorraine  worn 
her  chains?  One,  indeed  —  the  Due  de  Che- 
vreuse  —  had  half  ruined  himself  in  the  purchase 
of  diamonds  and  pearls  of  great  price  for  the 
adornment  of  charms  that  needed  no  fictitious  aids 
to  enhance  them.  But  the  lady  was  not,  it  ap- 
pears, duly  affected  by  the  munificence  of  this 
lover.  Much  annoyed,  and  repenting  of  his  lavish 
expenditure,  he  determined  to  repossess  himself  of 
the  jewels,  which  were  enclosed  in  a  richly  orna- 
mented casket.  He  did  not  request  their  return, 
but  hearing  that  she  had  for  some  reason  con- 
fided them,  until  the  proceedings  respecting  her 
property  were  concluded,  to  the  care  of  a  person 
named  Decoudrais,  the  prince  employed  a  man  in 
his  service  to  abstract  them ;  and  he  succeeded  in 
doing  so,  probably  with  the  connivance  of  the 
friend  into  whose  charge  they  were  given.  But 
Mademoiselle  Paulet  had  yet  a  numerous  train  of 
lovers  —  "  amants  moffensifs,"  a  contemporary 
writer  calls  them  —  and  the  chief  of  them  was  le 
bel  esprit,  Vincent  Voiture. 

In  the  Rambouillet  society,  every  gentleman  was 
bound  to  be  the  lover,  or  galant  et  honnete  homme, 
of  one  or  other  of  the  ladies.  He  was  to  be  the 
devoted  slave  of  his  mistress  —  something  after 
the  manner  of    the    knights    of    the    heroic    age, 


LES   GALA  NTS  ET  HONNETES  HOMMES     lO/ 

combined  with  the  sentimentality  of  the  Streph- 
ons  and  Florimels  of  D'Urfe  and  Calprenede, 
though  with  more  punctiliousness  than  the  swains 
of  the  Gascon  romancer  affected  in  their  social 
relations  with  their  nymphs.  He  must  blend  with 
knightly  honour  and  gallantry  the  simplicity  of 
Arcadia  and  the  courtesy  of  high  breeding,  while 
the  lady  of  whom  he  was  the  humble  servant  and 
respectful  adorer  graciously  tempered  the  stateli- 
ness  of  a  high-born  Mandane  with  a  dash  of  the 
tenderness  of  a  Phyllis. 

Manners  so  constrained  and  artificial  as  to  ap- 
pear utterly  ludicrous  were,  however,  but  a  protest 
against  the  extreme  laxity  and  grossness  of  the 
court,  and  the  thorough  demoralization  of  society 
produced  by  its  example  —  just  as  the  ignorance 
of  the  illiterate  grands  seigneurs  was  reproved  by 
the  reception  at  Rambouillet  — pair  a  pair  with 
the  first  nobles  of  the  land  —  of  the  gens  de 
lettres  they  were  inclined  to  contemn.  And  they 
were  received  with  even  greater  distinction,  for 
no  patronage  or  influence  could  purchase  a  wel- 
come for  them ;  their  talents,  learning  and  wit 
were  the  titles  that  procured  them  respfect.  ^'  Les 
grands,''  says  Roederer,  ^^ s  etonncrent  nn  moment 
de  cette  ^galite ;  mais  ils  syfirent!' 

It  is  probable  that  for  some  time  the  literary 
element,  with  its  learned  conversations  and  dis- 
cussions, contributed  more  towards  the  improve- 
ment of  the  French  language  than  the  refinement 


I08  OLD  PARIS 

of  manners ;  for  the  poets  and  men  of  letters 
sprang  for  the  most  part  from  the  ranks  of  the 
people,  or  from  the  bourgeoisie,  who  availed  them- 
selves of  the  opportunities  the  collegiate  schools 
afforded  to  studiously-disposed  youths  of  acquiring 
learning.  Roughnesses,  however,  would  soon  be 
toned  down  in  that  stately  society,  and  wit  and 
genius,  with  their  odes,  their  idyls,  and  epistles  to 
the  ladies,  aid  in  establishing  the  social  supremacy 
of  woman  in  France  —  first  achieved  at  the  Hotel 
de  Rambouillet,  and  still  so  generally  maintained. 


CHAPTER    X. 

The  Urbanity  Question.  —  Printed  Discourses  and  News-Letters. 

—  The  Aleraire  and  Gazette  de  France.  —  Romances  of 
D'Urfe  and  Calprenede.  —  A  Rival  in  the  Field.  —  Made- 
leine de  Scudery.  —  Georges  de  Scudery.  —  Julie  d'Angennes. 

—  Madeleine  at  Rambouillet.  —  Madeleine  as  a  Poetess. — 
The  Plays  of  Georges  de  Scudery.  —  Georges  a  Virtuoso.  — 
An  Address  to  the  Gentle  Reader.  —  Success  of  "  Le  Prince 
Deguise." — Georges  popular  at  Rambouillet. 

I  HE  "urbanity  question,"  like  many  of  a 
similar  nature  discussed  at  Rambouillet, 
was  considered  an  important  one.  The 
conversation  respecting  it  ended  in  a  unanimous 
vote  that  "  tirbanite  take  a  permanent  place  in 
the  French  vocabulary."  The  pros  and  the  cons 
were  noted  down  ;  for  as  the  literary  part  of  the 
Rambouillet  circle  had  not  assembled  in  full  force 
that  evening,  a  resjime  of  the  discussion  was 
required  for  the  absent  members.  Sometimes, 
when  the  subject  discussed  was  of  unusual  inter- 
est, the  conversations  upon  it  were  printed,  and 
forwarded  to  those  friends  and  acquaintances  who 
resided  mostly  at  their  provincial  cJidteaiix.  In 
this  habit  of  reporting  the  conversations  of  the 
salons,  literary  or  otherwise,  originated  many  of 
those  epistolary  writings  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 


I  I O  OLD  PARIS 

tury  since  collected  and  published.  They  were 
the  conversations  of  parted  friends  and  relations 
—  the  interchange  of  opinions  on  topics  of  interest 
and  the  passing  events  of  the  day,  of  which  no 
information  would  have  reached  the  provinces  but 
for  the  facile  pens  of  diligent  letter-writers. 

And  very  welcome  those  printed  discourses  and 
budgets  of  news  must  have  been  in  those  days  of 
literary  famine  and  undeveloped  newspaper  press ; 
far  more  so  than  is  now  the  arrival  of  a  box  of 
new  books  from  Mudie's  at  a  dull  country  house, 
empty  of  guests,  and  on  a  rainy  day.  There  were 
no  magazines  even  then,  except  those  that  con- 
tained the  state's  powder.  No  daily  or  weekly 
chronicle  of  the  follies,  the  vices,  the  crimes,  the 
amusements,  the  miseries  of  all  grades  of  society 
all  the  world  over ;  no  Wednesday,  Friday  or 
Saturday  reviews,  to  give  the  idle  and  busy  the 
pith  of  a  big  book  in  a  nut-shell,  and  save  them 
the  trouble  of  reading  and  of  forming  opinions  for  / 
themselves  ;  no  Gazette  of  FasJiion  and  World  of 
Elegance  to  describe  to  les  dames  provinciales  the 
latest  modes  parisiennes ;  in  fact,  none  of  the  pres- 
ent thousand  and  one  vehicles  of  good,  bad  and 
indifferent  literary  food,  and  few — very  few  —  of 
the  amusements,  distractions,  and  so-called  jDleas- 
ures  of  life  that  to  so  many  make  life  now  scarcely 
endurable. 

There  was  Renaudot's  Merciire  and  there  was 
the    Gazette  de  France,  for  which    Louis    himself 


MERCURE   AXD    GAZETTE    DE   FRANCE      I  I  I 

wrote  bulletins  of  the  war  ;  for  a  war,  either  for- 
eign or  civil  and  religious,  was  always  on  hand, 
and  frequentfy  both.  But  these  puny  sheets  con- 
tained no  court  circular ;  no  births,  marriages  and 
deaths;  no  agony  column;  no  "fashionable  intel- 
ligence "  of  marriages  on  the  tapis,  or  marriages 
dissolved ;  of  the  comings  and  goings  of  the  haute 
volec  to  their  places  and  mansions  in  country  or 
town,  or  for  runs  round  the  world  ;  no  lists  of 
the  shoals  of  inmates  filling  the  marine  mansions 
and  grand  hotels  ;  none,  indeed,  of  the  innumer- 
able trivialities  concerning  the  world's  doings  in 
general,  and  which  are  now  fully  chronicled  for  the 
particular  edification  of  those  who  deem  it  nec- 
essary and  important  to  be  duly  and  correctly 
informed  of  them. 

With  none  of  these  resources  of  the  present 
day  to  fall  back  upon  for  small  talk,  the  discus- 
sions of  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  on  language, 
or  on  the  merits  of  a  new  book,  formed  themes  of 
conversation  both  instructive  and  interesting  for 
those  families  who,  from  political  or  economical 
motives,  rarely  visited  the  capital;  and  thus, 
though  residing  at  a  distance  from  it,  they  shared 
in  some  degree  the  advantages  of  those  who  formed 
part  of  that  societe  cV elite,  as  well  as  helped  to 
further  its  principal  objects — the  perfecting  of 
the  French  tongue,  the  spreading  of  a  taste  for 
polite  literature,  and  the  cultivation  of  refinement 
of  manners,  as  a  first  step  towards  an  improve- 
ment in  the  morals  of  the  age. 


I  I  2  OLD    PARIS 

In  this  way  D'Urfe's  fame  was,  as  it  were, 
advertised  and  spread  far  and  wide ;  and  still 
more  so  that  of  his  successor,  Calprenede,  who, 
though  keeping  on  the  borders  of  Arcadia,  con- 
trived to  endow  his  heroes  with  a  more  chivalric 
spirit  than  those  of  D'Urfe.  His  impetuous 
knights,  distressed  princesses  in  disguise,  sigh- 
ing swains,  and  faithless  fair  ones,  pass  through  a 
series  of  adventures  truly  astonishing.  But,  ex- 
travagant as  they  are,  Calprenede  brings  all  his 
personages  well  through  their  troubles ;  some, 
perhaps,  when  their  worst  trials  beset  them,  are 
reduced  to  such  straits  by  their  constancy  and 
heroism,  that,  with  Francis  I.  (who  had  no  honour 
to  lose),  they  might  triumphantly  exclaim,  "Tout 
est  perdu  sauf  IWionncur!  " 

Calprenede' s  eight  quarto  volume  romances 
met  with  the  most  signal  success.  They  found 
a  welcome  in  every  chateau  in  the  kingdom,  and 
were  read  with  avidity.  Edition  succeeded  edi- 
tion, until  the  author  could  satisfy  the  eager 
demand  of  both  town  and  country  readers  for 
another  long  history  of  the  sentimental  gallan- 
tries of  shepherd  life,  and  imaginary  feats  of 
chivalry.  The  ludicrous  improbability  of  his 
stories  seems  to  have  been  no  bar  to  their 
popularity.  It  may,  indeed,  have  been  one  cause 
of  it,  for  the  Gascon  romancer  was  reproached 
only  for  brevity.  Yet  each  of  his  volumes,  of 
eight   hundred    to   a  thousand  well -filled   pages, 


MADELEINE   DE   SCUDERY  II3 

contained  not  less  than  six  of  the  modern  three- 
hundred-paged  vokimes.  They  were  published 
singly,  as  they  were  written  —  one  or  two  in  the 
course  of  a  year  —  and  as  they  abounded  in  epi- 
sodes, romance  within  romance,  a  great  fault  in 
itself,  yet  suspense  was  not  so  agonizing  as  if  the 
whole  interest  of  the  work  had  been  centred  in 
two  or  three  of  its  characters.  But  a  rival  of 
more  cultured  mind,  more  fertile  brain,  and  less 
extravagant  fancy,  and  who  held  a  more  facile  pen, 
was  shortly  to  eclipse  the  fame  of  Calprenede ; 
this  rival  was  Madeleine  de  Scudery. 

Amongst  the  ladies  who  frequented  the  Hotel 
de  Rambouillet,  none,  in  her  day,  attained  greater 
literary  celebrity  than  Mademoiselle  de  Scudery. 
Born  in  1607,  she  lived  to  1701,  nearly  a  whole 
century,  entering  very  early  on  a  literary  career, 
and  pursuing  it  until  quite  an  advanced  age. 
Many  of  the  changes  which  occurred  in  the  lan- 
guage during  that  period,  in  its  orthography,  in 
the  adoption  of  certain  forms  of  expression  and 
the  rejection  of  others  were  either  originated  by 
her,  or  owed  their  reception  to  her  sanction  or  her 
use  of  them.  If  it  be  permitted  to  employ  the 
term  "representative  women,"  Mademoiselle  de 
Scudery  of  all  contemporary  female  writers  has 
the  strongest  claim,  both  from  her  length  of  years 
and  the  number  and  success  of  her  works,  to  be 
named  the  representative  of  the  polite  literature 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  as  approved  at  Ram- 
bouillet. 


I  14  OLD   PARIS 

The  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  was  then  more  of  a 
court  than  the  Louvre.  Not  to  be  received  there 
was  equivalent  to  being  outside  the  pale  of  good 
society.  Introductions  to  the  marquise  were  anx- 
iously sought  for.  To  have  but  once  spent  an 
evening  in  the  famous  salon  bleu  amongst  the 
beaux  csprits,  the  littcrateui's,  the  rank  and  fashion, 
the  wealth  and  beauty  of  the  capital,  was  to  have 
achieved  an  envied  social  distinction.  To  obtain 
it  was  an  inducement  to  gifted  youth,  poor  in 
purse  and  lowly  born,  to  persevere  in  the  acquire- 
rhent  of  learning,  of  artistic  skill,  or  excellence  in 
whatever  branch  of  literature  or  the  arts  they 
might  be  pursuing. 

Madeleine  de  Scudery  and  her  brother  Georges, 
who  was  six  years  her  senior,  first  visited  Ram- 
bouillet in  1622,  at  the  special  invitation  of  the 
marquise.  Georges  was  then  twenty-one,  and  a 
lieutenant  of  the  Gardes  du  Roi,  —  Madeleine  but 
fifteen.  Both  were  already  known  for  their  poet- 
ical talents.  Left  orphans  at  an  early  age,  they 
had  been  brought  up  by  a  maternal  uncle,  who 
gave  Madeleine  the  same  education  as  her  brother ; 
Latin  and  Greek  forming  part  of  their  studies. 
Notwithstanding  his  six  years'  seniority,  Georges 
had  acquired  less  of  the  dead  languages  than  his 
sister,  who  was  far  more  studiously  inclined.  She 
was  an  eager  reader  of  romances,  of  works  on 
theology,  on  agriculture,  or  any  subject,  in  fact, 
that  her  uncle's  miscellaneous  collection  of  books 


MADELEINE   AT  RAMBOUILLET  II5 

gave  her  an  opportunity  of  obtaining  a  knowledge 
of.  This  uncle  seems  to  have  been  a  good  sort 
of  genial  old  bachelor.  Not  rich,  but  living  thor- 
oughly at  his  ease  in  Paris;  enjoying  the  company 
of  the  beaux  esprits,  doing  his  best  for  his  adopted 
children,  rather  spoiling  little  Madeleine,  whose 
vivacity  and  espieglcrie  amused  him,  and  at  his 
death  leaving  his  small  property  to  them. 

Georges  and  Madeleine  were  both  born  at 
Havre,  where  their  parents  had  settled,  though 
they  were  of  a  good  old  Provencal  family.  Made- 
leine, on  the  death  of  her  uncle,  found  a  protect- 
ress in  Madame  de  Rambouillet.  Amiable  in 
disposition,  full  of  talent,  well  educated,  well  born, 
well  bred,  but  scantily  provided  for,  the  Marquise 
thought  Madeleine  de  Scudery  a  desirable  com- 
panion for  her  eldest  daughter  Julie.  The  young 
girls  were  of  nearly  the  same  age,  and  became 
greatly  attached  to  each  other.  Some  writers 
have  described  Julie  as  ^^  cxcessivemcnt  j'olie," 
others  have  dwelt  upon  her  mental  gifts  and  pleas- 
ing manners.  But  Jo  lie  was  not  usually  employed 
in  the  seventeenth  century  to  express  beauty  of 
person  ;  it  meant  something  more,  and,  as  applied 
to  Julie  d'Angennes,  that  she  was  a  charming 
girl,  though  probably  not  regularly  beautiful. 

Of  Madeleine  de  Scudery  we  are  told  more 
precisely,  '^ quelle possedait  toutes  les  ckarmes,  sauf 
celle  de  la  beaute  physique ^  Poor  girl,  she  had 
been  robbed  of  her  beauty  by  that  terrible  scourge 


I  1 6  OLD   PARIS 

of  those  days  —  smallpox.  Happily  she  was  not 
of  sufficient  consideration  in  the  world  to  be 
obliged  to  hide  her  scarred  features  in  a  convent, 
and  fritter  away  her  great  mental  gifts  in  the 
debasing  pettinesses  of  the  purposeless  life  of  a 
cloistered  nun.  Madeleine  was  not  exactly  domi- 
ciled at  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet,  though  she 
passed  much  of  her  time  there.  She  noted  down 
the  conversations  on  the  various  subjects  pro- 
posed for  discussion ;  not  in  the  exact  words 
of  the  speakers,  but  rather  as  a  condensed  report 
of  their  opinions  and  the  result  arrived  at,  —  for 
they  were  written  after  the  conversation  had 
closed.  Only  by  sustained  attention  and  an  excel- 
lent memory  could  she  have  accomplished  her 
task.  And  no  doubt  to  this  frequent  exercise  of 
both  were  owing  that  ease  and  ability  with  which, 
when  in  after  years  she  wrote  ten-volume  ro- 
mances, the  long  conversations  of  her  characters 
were  carried  on.  Dialogue  was  one  of  her  chief 
excellences.  The  conversations  on  moral  subjects 
were  separated  from  the  works  that  contained 
them,  and  published  as  models  of  their  kind,  and 
most  successfully,  long  after  her  death. 

But  during  the  period  now  referred  to,  1622  to 
1632,  Mademoiselle  de  Scudery  did  not  write 
romances.  She  wrote,  as  was  the  fashion  with 
those  who  had  ability,  and  indeed  with  many 
who  had  not,  numberless  short  pieces  of  poetry. 
They   are   remarkable  for  delicacy  of   sentiment, 


MADELEINE   AS  A    POETESS  WJ 

a  happy  turn  of  thought,  and  finish,  and  correct- 
ness in  expression  that  might  claim  an  honourable 
niche  for  her  amongst  the  poets  of  the  day. 
But  the  fame  of  her  novels  entirely  eclipsed  that 
of  her  poems.  They  were,  however,  sufficiently 
appreciated  to  obtain  for  her  the  appellation  of 
Sappho.  This  became  her  •'  noin  de  Parnasse " 
at  Rambouillet,  and  she  was  familiarly  known  and 
addressed  by  it  to  the  end  of  her  life.  Mademoi- 
selle de  Scudery  was  one  of  those  charming 
persons  occasionally  met  with,  whose  excellent 
qualities  of  heart  and  mind  command  esteem,  and 
in  whom  plainness  of  feature  is  obliterated  by  the 
goodness  and  intelligence  that  beam  in  the 
countenance  and  secure  admiration  denied  to 
mere  beauty.  For  notwithstanding  the  want  of 
it  in  her  face,  her  amiability,  graceful  figure  and 
distinguee  manners  inspired  in  her  youth  more 
than  one  grande  passion^  and  the  number  of  her 
friends  might  be  reckoned  by  that  of  her 
acquaintances. 

Georges  de  Scudery,  though  his  fame  has  been 
less  enduring  than  his  sister's,  was  by  no  means 
deficient  in  talent.  In  his  day  he  was  regarded  as 
the  rival  of  Corneille,  and  his  plays  had  immense 
success.  Some  portions  of  "  Le  Cid"  were  at- 
tributed to  his  pen,  and  many  parts  of  his 
own  dramas  were  considered  to  possess  so  much 
poetic  beauty  that  the  author  of  "Le  Cid"  might 
have  been  proud    to  acknowledge  them.      It  was 


I  1 8  OLD   PARIS 

never  asserted  during  his  life  that  Corneille 
assisted  Scudery.  But  a  French  writer  of  more 
recent  date  has  seemed  to  imply  it  in  the  remark 
that  in  Scudery's  verses  there  is  "  tin  souffle 
dc  Corneille.''''  It  is  more  than  probable  that 
Georges  de  Scudery  would  have  rejected  the  aid 
of  Corneille  —  for  he  had  a  very  high  opinion  of 
his  own  abilities.  He  was  as  boastful  and  almost 
as  ready  as  Calprenede  to  draw  his  sword  in 
defence  of  his  works,  and  to  avenge  any  implied 
slur  on  his  literary  reputation. 

That  there  was  more  than  tin  sotiffle  de 
Madeleine  in  them,  no  one  doubted.  The  jealous 
Calprenede  once  asserted  that  the  dedications 
and  prefaces  alone  belonged  to  Georges,  and  these 
two  fiery  gentlemen  crossed  swords  in  conse- 
quence. But  it  is  certain  that  she  greatly  assisted 
him  in  his  literary  work.  Whatever  she  wrote 
herself  was  published  in  his  name,  even  when 
it  was  fully  understood  that  she  was  the  author. 
The  brother  and  sister  lived  together,  and  she 
not  only  corrected  his  writings  but  corrected 
his  conduct,  and  played  in  many  respects  the  role 
of  Providence  to  him.  For  Georges  was  a  veiy 
fine  gentleman,  a  dashing  officer  of  La  Garde 
Royale,  with  very  little  money  and  very  expensive 
tastes. 

He  collected  virtii,  and  had  contracted  the 
tulip  mania  to  such  a  degree  that  he  was  content 
to  ruin  himself  to  obtain  a  scarce  bulb.     He  was 


AN  ADDRESS  TO   THE  GENTLE  READER     I  1 9 

fond  of  pictures,  and  contrived  to  get  together  a 
gallery  of  interesting  portraits.  The  talents  of 
his  sister  he  estimated  as  highly  as  his  own,  and 
compelled  her  to  make  diligent  use  of  them.  It 
was  his  habit  to  lock  her  in  her  study  for  a 
certain  number  of  hours  daily,  allowing  no  visitors 
to  have  access  to  her.  Between  them  they 
earned  a  large  sum  by  the  pen,  and  though 
Georges  spent  the  income  of  both,  as  well  as 
nearly  the  whole  of  their  literary  gains  besides 
his  pay  as  an  officer  of  the  Guards,  he  was  never 
free  from  debt.  Three  times  Madeleine  was  on 
the  eve  of  marriage,  but  Georges  always  stepped 
in  and  opposed  it.  In  two  instances  they  were 
desirable  matches,  advantageous  to  her  in  every 
respect.  Her  brother's  opposition  therefore  can 
only  be  accounted  for  by  crediting  him  with 
selfish  motives ;  yet  Georges  had  always  the 
reputation  of  being  a  man  of  the  most  chivalric 
sentiments,  the  very  soul  of  honour,  though  un 
pen  fanfaron.  He  was  supposed  to  write  only  for 
his  amusement,  and  was  fond  of  making  this 
known  in  prefaces  and  dedications  addressed  to 
"  L'Ami  Lecteur."  In  one  of  these  prefaces 
he  says : 

"  If  I  write,  it  is  because  I  have  nothing 
better  to  do,  and  my  only  object  in  writing  is  to 
amuse  and  please  myself.  So  far  from  being 
mercenary,  the  printers  and  players  will  bear  me 
witness  that  I  have  not  asked  them  to  buy,  even 


120  OLD   PARIS 

when  I  might  have  expected  them  to  pay.  My 
gentle  readers  will  readily  pass  over  any  faults 
they  detect,  which  may  have  escaped  me,  when 
they  learn  that  I  have  spent  more  years  in  camps 
than  hours  in  my  study,  that  I  have  burnt  more 
matches  in  firing  the  arquebuse  than  in  lighting 
candles,  so  that  I  better  know  how  to  range 
soldiers  in  order  of  battle  than  words  in  their 
proper  places,  and  to  square  a  battalion  than  to 
round  a  period." 

Notwithstanding  this  affectation  of  writing  for 
amusement,  Georges  de  Scud^ry's  literary  labour 
was  substantially  rewarded,  and  deservedly  so. 
For  his  dramatic  pieces  were  highly  successful, 
and  excited  the  envy  and  rage  of  Richelieu's 
company  of  poets.  One  of  his  pieces  was 
played  at  the  cardinal's  theatre,  and  proved 
more  attractive  than  any  that  had  preceded  it. 
Another,  "  Le  Prince  deguise,"  was  played  at 
the  Court  Theatre  in  the  Louvre  and  at  several 
other  places.  It  appears  to  have  had,  what  was 
unusual  in  those  days  for  a  short,  slight  piece 
of  pleasantry,  a  very  long  run.  Wherever,  and 
however  often  it  was  played,  all  who  could 
obtain  admission  ran  after  it.  It  formed,  for 
a  considerable  time,  the  delight  of  the  court. 
The  queen  was  charmed  with  it ;  all  Paris  talked 
of  it ;  whole  stanzas  were  often  quoted,  and  at 
Rambouillet  the  ladies  knew  it  almost  by  heart. 

No  wonder  that  Georges  de  Scudery,  who  was 


GEORGES  POPULAR  AT  RAMBOUILLET      121 

SO  well  inclined  to  mount  a  high  pedestal,  should 
consider  that  he  was  justified  in  the  good  opinion 
he  entertained  of  himself  by  the  success  he  met 
with,  and  the  reward  it  brought  him  ;  if  not  in 
direct  payment,  in  valuable  presents,  and,  what 
he  liked  fully  as  well,  an  overwhelming  amount 
of  flattering  compliments.  He  was  a  favourite 
at  Rambouillet,  where  he  basked  in  the  sunshine 
of  ladies'  smiles  as  a  pleasant  scapegrace,  a 
charming  fellow.  But  he  had  not  Chapelain's 
talent  of  putting  money  in  his  purse  and  keeping 
it  there.  Yet  could  he  have  devoted  himself  to 
sounding  the  praises  of  the  great  cardinal  as 
much  as  he  delighted  to  sound  his  own,  he 
might  have  acquired  places  and  pensions,  and 
have  had  money  enough  and  to  spare  for  the 
full  gratification  of  his  expensive  horticultural 
and  artistic  tastes.  It  is,  however,  pleasing  to 
meet  with  a  literary  man,  who  was  also  a  poor 
one,  and  who  yet  could  refrain  from  bowing 
down  and  kissing  the  dust,  and  offering  the 
incense  of  flattery  before  the  tyrannical  dis- 
penser of  court  favours. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

The  Plague  of  1631.  —  Terror  of  the  People.  —  Wretched  State 
of  the  City.  —  The  Chateau  de  St.  Germain.  —  A  Royal 
Cook.  —  The  Queen  and  her  Ladies. —  Anne  and  Louis 
at  Thirty  Years  of  Age.  —  The  Rage  for  Dancing.  —  Riche- 
lieu's ostentatious  Pomp.  —  The  Regulation  of  Costume. 
—  Mortification  of  the  Noblesse.  —  The  Right  Divine. — 
The  Plague  at  Rambouillet.  —  A  Miracle. 

[N  1 63 1,  Paris  —  which  in  the  preceding 
year  had  been  wasted  by  famine,  and 
desolated  by  fire  that  had  destroyed 
the  sacristy  of  the  Sainte  Chapelle  and  injured 
several  of  its  public  buildings  —  was  visited  by 
one  of  those  terrible  outbreaks  of  plague,  whose 
fearful  ravages  during  the  sixteenth  and  seven- 
teenth centuries  so  frequently  thinned  its  popu- 
lation. When  it  became  known  that  this  fatal 
scourge  was  again  among  them,  every  heart  was 
appalled,  and  dread  of  the  disease  had  almost  as 
many  victims  as  the  disease  itself.  How  many, 
trembling  for  their  own  lives  and  the  lives  of 
those  dearest  to  them,  watched  in  agony  for 
the  first  appearance  of  the  dreaded  plague-spot 
in  their  families !  How  many,  made  cruel  and 
heartless  by  the  sight  of  this  supposed  sure 
sign    of    the   grasp    of    death    upon    their    loved 


TERROR  OF  THE  PEOPLE  1 23 

ones,  fled  —  precipitately  fled  —  to  escape  from 
it  themselves,  leaving  parents,  husband,  wife,  to 
sink,  uncared  for  and  alone,  under  the  relent- 
less hand  of  the  grim  destroyer  —  la  peste ! 

La  pcste !  No  word  signifying  death  to  the 
victim  of  the  disease  it  represents  was  ever  so 
fraught  with  terror  as  this.  Stout  hearts  that 
would  have  braved  death  in  any  other  form 
quailed  before  it,  and  tenderest  ones  were  turned 
to  stone.  It  was  not  simply  death  they  feared, 
but  the  horrors  of  la  pcste,  the  heart-sickening 
horrors  with  which  imagination  invested  it  as 
preceding  death.  The  rich  and  noble  generally 
sought  safety  in  their  provincial  cJidteaux ;  some 
few,  trusting  to  their  walled  mansions  and  gar- 
dens, were  content  with  this  isolation,  and  the 
cutting  off  all  means  of  communication  with 
the  outer  world.  The  people  who  dwelt  in  the 
narrow,  pestiferous  streets  of  the  city  thronged 
to  the  churches,  and  on  all  sides  Heaven  was 
implored  to  remove  its  chastening  hand  from 
ungodly  but  repentant  Paris. 

There  was  neither  willingness  nor  sufficient 
intelligence  in  the  people  to  see  a  remedy  for 
the  evil  in  the  introduction  of  more  air,  light 
and  space  into  the  streets  of  the  uncleanly  city. 
They  preferred  to  attribute  the  infliction  to 
angry  saints  and  an  offended  God,  and  the 
priests  did  not  care  to  lighten  their  darkness. 
When    Richelieu    ordered  the    widen  in  o^   of   some 


124  OLD   PARIS 

of  the  narrow,  tortuous  lanes,  the  pulling  down 
of  the  walls  that  shut  in  many  of  the  dirty 
forecourts,  and  the  space  to  be  thrown  into 
the  streets,  there  were  murmurings  loud  and 
deep.  "  It  was  an  interference  with  the  habits 
of  the  people,"  was  the  general  cry.  The  fore- 
courts of  old  mean  houses  sheltered  every 
conceivable  nuisance,  and  there  fever,  plague 
and  smallpox  lurked.  Some  few  of  them  were 
at  this  time  done  away  with,  and  a  freer  circu- 
lation of  air  obtained ;  but  the  remedy  was  far 
too  partially  applied  to  effect  any  sensible  im- 
provement in  the  healthiness  of  the  city. 

Notwithstanding  the  fine  hotels  of  its  nobility 
and  its  rich  financiers,  its  Place  Royale  and  fash- 
ionable faubourg  of  the  Marais,  there  were  fearful 
spots  in  old  Paris  then,  and  for  many  a  long  year 
after,  —  spots  where  disease  was  engendered,  and 
where  vice  and  crime  were  harboured.  After 
dark  the  rich,  besides  their  usual  train  of  attend- 
ants, were  accompanied  by  numerous  torch-bearers ; 
but  the  lives  and  property  of  peaceful  but  less 
affluent  citizens  were  at  the  mercy  of  robbers  and 
assassins,  who  then  left  their  hiding-places,  and 
with  impunity  attacked  benighted  wayfarers  in  the 
dreary,  unlighted  streets  ;  for  of  police  there  was 
actually  none,  though  some  ineffectual  attempts 
had  from  time  to  time  been  made  towards 
organizing  a  watch. 

The  court  had  retired  to  St.   Germain  ;   it  was 


THE   CHATEAU  DE   ST.    GERMAIN         12$ 

Louis  XIII.'s  favourite  residence,  and  it  was  at  a 
convenient  distance  from  Paris.  At  Versailles 
there  existed  then  but  a  poor,  dilapidated  chateau, 
fast  falling  to  ruin,  the  king,  from  parsimony, 
refusing  to  have  it  repaired.  He  was  fond  of 
Fontainebleau,  but  preferred  St.  Germain  because 
of  the  greater  freedom  he  enjoyed  there ;  the 
number  of  his  attendants  was  fewer,  and  the 
courtiers  and  gentlemen  of  his  household  could 
only  be  partly  lodged  in  the  chateau  of  Henry  IV. 
It  was  rather  a  hunting-seat  than  a  royal  residence 
affording  accommodation  for  a  numerous  suite. 
From  prints  of  the  period,  it  appears  to  have  been 
elegant  in  design,  though  of  small  extent.  It 
stood  on  the  borders  of  the  then  vast  forest, 
where  roamed  the  wild  boar  and  the  stag,  and 
which  abounded  in  all  sorts  of  game,  strictly  pre- 
served for  the  royal  hunt.  He  was  accompanied 
to  St.  Germain  only  by  his  favourites  and  com- 
panions of  the  chase  ;  those  who  could  tell  the 
best  hunting  stories,  make  him  laugh  heartily 
and  forget  for  a  time  his  most  dreaded  foe  — 
his  Satanic  majesty. 

Louis  not  only  killed  his  game,  but  often  pre- 
pared it  for  the  table.  He  could  lard  a  piece  of 
meat  with  the  most  skilful  of  his  cooks,  and  was 
often  led  to  do  so,  and  to  display  his  general 
knowledge  of  the  culinary  art,  from  his  excessive 
fear  of  being  poisoned,  which  he  further  provided 
against  by  having  every  dish  set  before  him  tasted 


126  OLD  PARIS 

by  the  most  trusted  of  his  favourites  before  he 
himself  partook  of  it.  He  possessed  talents, 
however,  of  a  very  different  order ;  for  he  could 
mount  from  the  kitchen  to  the  painting-room, 
and  produce,  as  at  St.  Germain  he  frequently  did, 
some  very  pretty  and  ably-drawn  sketches  of  the 
surrounding  scenery.  He  also  played  the  theorbe 
with  a  masterly  hand,  and  composed  many  pleas- 
ing simple  airs  for  it. 

The  sound  of  the  guitar,  or  little  mandoline, 
often  drew  Louis  to  the  queen's  apartment, 
where  Anne  of  Austria  sat  curling,  combing 
and  frizzing  her  hair  for  hours  together,  while 
her  attendants  and  ladies  praised  its  beauty. 
Her  small  white  hands  were  the  constant  theme 
of  their  admiration;  no  less  so  her  rounded  arm, 
her  pretty  foot,  her  noble  figure,  and  every  feature 
of  her  face.  How  often  does  the  diligent  Madame 
de  Motteville  express  her  weariness  of  the  frivo- 
lous talk  and  idleness  in  which  so  many  hours  and 
days  were  wasted  by  this  ^^ phis  grande  reine  du 
monde"  —  so  she  habitually  calls  her  royal  mis- 
tress, apparently  without  any  satirical  intention. 
Anne  would  scarcely  have  cared  to  undergo  the 
exertion  of  playing  the  guitar  herself;  but  she 
liked  to  hear  it  accompanying  snatches  of  Moorish 
ballads  and  merry  Gitana  songs.  It  reminded 
her  of  the  Spain  she  loved,  it  varied  the  morn- 
ing's amusements,  and  came  in  as  a  relief  when 
there  was    any  lull   in    the   "  conversatio7t   Espag- 


ANNE   AND   LOUIS  AT   THIRTY  12/ 

note,''  which  consisted  in  ^^  dcs  riens  galants  et 
mysterietix. 

When  Louis  entered,  sad,  severe,  and  often 
suffering  in  health,  the  mysterious  conversation 
ceased,  but  the  guitar  twanged  on,  and  the 
singer  exerted  herself  to  do  her  best.  If  she 
was  the  object  of  his  "chaste  galajiterie,''  he  came 
to  gaze  upon  her.  Then,  his  countenance  was 
watched,  and  its  changing  emotions  with  the 
changing  mood  of  the  Spanish  ditty,  now  tender, 
grave,  or  gay.  Sometimes  his  eyes  rested  on 
Anne ;  he  did  not  esteem  her,  but  perhaps  he 
admired  her.  She  possessed  her  full  share  of  the 
embonpoint,  without  which  it  was  the  fashion  of 
the  day  to  consider  no  perfection  of  feature  or 
figure  entitled  to  rank  as  beauty;  and  her  thirty 
summers  sat  lightly  and  gracefully  upon  her.  Her 
appearance  was  that  of  a  woman  of  twenty-five 
at  the  utmost,  and  but  for  the  fulness  of  her 
figure,  she  would  have  looked  even  younger. 
Louis,  on  the  contrary,  might  have  been  credited 
with  forty  winters  instead  of  thirty  summers. 
But  Anne  was  not  then  troubled  by  cares  of 
state. 

Petty  political  intrigues  and  private  flirtations 
were  her  most  exciting  amusements ;  and  when 
she  got  into  trouble,  she  had  friends  about  her 
sufficiently  devoted  to  risk  much  to  bring  her 
safely  out  of  it ;  and  greatly  obliged  she  was  to 
them  at  the  time,  though  services  rendered  to  her 


128  OLD   PARIS 

were  apt  soon  to  slip  out  of  her  memory.  If  she 
had  never  secured  her  husband's  affections,  he  had 
never  possessed  hers.  When  accused  of  conspir- 
ing with  Gaston  for  the  purpose  of  afterwards 
annulling  her  marriage  with  Louis  and  marrying 
the  younger  brother,  she  said  it  would  "not  have 
been  worth  her  while,  as  she  saw  no  advantage  in 
the  change."  But  though  no  affection  existed 
between  this  royal  pair,  there  were  also  none  of 
the  storms  and  tempests  that  troubled  the  peace 
of  Marie  de  Medicis  and  Henry  IV.  Anne  con- 
trived, too,  to  have  as  much  pleasure  as  her  indo- 
lent nature  needed,  and  gloomy  as  the  court  has 
been  described  to  be  under  the  influence  of  the 
monarch's  reserved  and  inflexible  temperament 
and  the  severe  view  he  took  of  his  duties,  yet  it 
had  its  under-current  of  romance,  and  gaiety  was 
not  wholly  banished  from  it.  Though  the  car- 
rousels and  noisy  revels  that  Marie  de  Medicis 
delighted  in  were  suppressed,  the  court  often 
danced;  sometimes  from  morning  till  night,  and 
through  the  night  until  morning  dawned  again. 
Such  was  the  rage  for  dancing,  that  even  the 
dismal  Louis  occasionally  figured  in  a  ballet  dii 
roi. 

Great  extravagance  and  eccentricity  in  dress 
were  also  then  indulged  in,  and  to  such  an  excess 
that  a  court  reunion  resembled  a  theatrical  repre- 
sentation, in  which  the  actors  had  striven  to  outdo 
each  other  in   sumptuousness  and  variety  of  toil- 


RICHELIEU'S  POMP  AND  OSTENTATION    I  29 

ettes.  Not  only  were  immense  sums  expended  on 
gold  embroideries,  diamonds,  rubies,  pearls,  point 
lace,  etc.,  but  gentlemen  as  well  as  ladies  were 
ambitious  of  inventing  new  and  eccentric  fashions, 
or  introducing  modifications  of  established  ones  ; 
yet  in  this  attempt  the  younger  part  of  the  fash- 
ionable world  met  with  the  decided  disapproval 
and  opposition  of  their  elders. 

The  cardinal  minister's  ostentatious  style  of 
living,  his  military  escort,  the  pomp  and  parade  of 
royalty  he  affected  —  and  with  the  display  of  which 
he  insulted  the  oppressed,  tax-ridden  people,  from 
the  fruits  of  whose  labour  he  exacted  his  wealth 
—  were  little  calculated  to  set  an  example  of 
moderation  to  the  Jiautc  noblesse.  It  rather  incited 
them  to  attempt  to  vie  with  him  in  the  splendour 
of  their  elaborately-painted  and  gold-bedizened,  but 
lumbering  equipages,  and  in  the  number  of  their 
lackeys  and  attendants  ;  in  richness  of  apparel ; 
in  the  magnificence  of  their  houses,  and  the  bril- 
liancy of  their  frequent  entertainments. 

The  king  was  extremely  mean  and  parsimoni- 
ous, yet  he  looked  with  a  jealous  eye  on  all  this 
state  and  magnificence,  so  far  surpassing  his  own. 
The  crown  jewels  were  then  of  small  value  com- 
pared with  those  possessed  by  many  of  the  nobil- 
ity, and  though  Anne  of  Austria  had  most 
magnificent  diamonds  and  pearls  of  large  size, 
she  brought  them  from  Spain  on  her  marriage. 
Marie  de  Medicis  had  very  few  jewels. 


130  OLD   PARIS 

It  was  probably  for  the  purpose  of  pouring  a 
little  balm  on  the  sorely-wounded  feelings  of  the 
king,  and  of  diverting  attention  from  his  own  as- 
sumption of  royal  state,  as  well  as  of  pursuing  his 
system  of  humiliating  and  crushing  the  noblesse, 
that  Richelieu  proposed  to  prescribe  a  distin- 
guishing costume  for  each  grade  of  society.  He 
had  the  boldness  to  begin  with  the  grands  sei- 
gneurs, who  henceforth  were  to  abate  something  of 
that  magnificence  in  dress  which  it  had  become 
their  pride  to  display  at  court.  Red  and  white 
plumes,  and  diamond-looped  hats,  were  not  to  be 
laid  aside;  velvets  and  satins,  and  massive  em- 
broideries mixed  with  seed-pearls  and  gems,  fine 
Venetian  lace  ruffs,  diamond-hilted  swords,  all 
might  be  worn,  but  varying  in  degrees  of  rich- 
ness with  the  differing  degrees  of  nobility  of  the 
wearers.  The  class  bonrgeoise  and  parlementaire, 
the  people  in  their  several  gradations,  all  had  their 
costumes  assigned  them,  with  some  distinctive 
mark  of  their  calling,  or  indication  of  their  exact 
place  in  the  social  scale. 

Considering  the  general  tendency  to  turbulence 
in  the  nobles  of  that  day,  there  may  have  been 
wisdom  in  the  attempt  to  mark  visibly  the  separa- 
tion of  classes.  For  it  was  inimical  to  the  true 
interests  of  commerce  and  the  material  prosperity 
of  the  nation  (which  Richelieu,  whether  for  his 
own  glory  or  not,  desired  to  promote),  that  the 
artisans    and    lower  bourgeoisie  should  be  drawn 


THE  RIGHT  DIVINE   TO  GOVERN  WRONG    I3I 

away  from  their  occupations  and  be  lured  into 
taking  part  in  the  commotions  and  revolts  incited 
by  the  disaffected  noblesse.  A  sort  of  order  was 
evoked  out  of  disorder  when  this  classification  of 
the  nation  was  effected  and  each  class  ticketed; 
the  inferior  classes  being  made  to  comprehend  that 
it  was  to  the  advantage  of  each  to  confine  itself  to 
the  pursuits  or  business  of  its  own  peculiar  sphere. 
It  was  a  system  of  separate  interests,  class  against 
class,  that  had  evil  results  hereafter.  It  served  at 
the  time  to  deprive  the  noblesse  of  a  certain 
degree  of  influence ;  to  mortify  them  exceedingly, 
and  equally  so  to  gratify  the  powerful  minister, 
who  struck  a  further  blow  at  their  independence 
by  ordering  the  demolition  of  those  moated  and 
embattled  feudal  cJidteaiix  in  the  provinces,  that 
were  not  needed  for  the  defence  of  the  frontiers  of 
the  kingdom,  or  for  the  protection  of  the  towns. 
These  towns  were  then  mere  hamlets  or  small 
villages,  Paris  being  sometimes  spoken  of  as  "the 
carbuncle  and  diamond  of  the  towns  of  France." 

Louis  XIII.  had  a  deep  sense  of  his  right 
divine  to  govern  France  with  an  iron  sceptre. 
Considering  himself  as  the  incarnation  of  absolute 
power  derived  from  God,  he  could  brook  no  oppo- 
sition to  his  will,  no  observation  that  seemed 
contrary  to  it,  except  from  the  cardinal,  who 
sometimes  availed  himself  of  his  priestly  charac- 
ter to  read  his  royal  master  a  lesson.  In  matters 
of  state  he  dictated,  while  affecting  to  be  coun- 


132  OLD   PARIS 

selled  or  consulted  ;  and  Louis  felt  his  bondage 
very  sorely  at  times,  but  had  not  the  mental 
power  to  free  himself  from  the  cardinal's  strong 
grasp.  His  arbitrary  measures,  however,  pleased 
the  king,  and  the  knowledge  that  his  delegated 
authority  was  as  despotically  and  unflinchingly 
used  as  if  directly  exercised  by  himself,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  consoled  him. 

But  while  the  court  was  amusing  itself  at  St. 
Germain,  the  plague  was  raging  in  Paris.  Hun- 
dreds died  daily,  many  from  fear,  many  from 
neglect;  but -all  were  carted  off  to  pits  at  a  dis- 
tance from  the  city.  Gradually  the  terrible  disease 
subsided.  Of  those  who  had  fled,  some  took 
courage  and  returned.  In  most  cases  their  rela- 
tives were  dead  and  their  houses  pillaged ;  for  at 
no  time  was  robbery  more  frequent,  or  crime 
more  prevalent,  than  during  the  plague,  and  while 
Paris  was  a  scene  of  general  lamentation  and  woe. 

The  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  was  not  spared.  The 
second  son  of  the  marquis,  a  child  of  eight  years, 
was  stricken  by  the  plague.  The  marquise  was 
urged  to  leave  the  Hotel,  but  in  vain  —  she  could 
not  be  prevailed  on  to  forsake  her  child.  She  was 
reminded  that  she  imperilled  her  own  life,  yet 
she  remained  firm  in  her  resolve  to  watch  over  her 
son's,  and  equally  firm  was  Julie  d'Angennes  in 
her  determination  to  remain  with  her  mother. 
The  younger  daughters  and  the  whole  staff  of 
servants  were  sent  into  the  country.     The  mar- 


A    MIRACLE  133 

qiiise  and  her  eldest  child  attended  the  sufferer  ; 
but  notwithstanding  their  affectionate  care,  the 
poor  boy  died. 

For  this  act  of  duty,  Madame  de  Rambouillet 
and  Julie  were  exalted  at  once  into  heroines,  and, 
in  accordance  with  the  superstitious  tendencies 
of  the  age,  many  of  their  friends  saw  in  the 
fact  of  their  not  having  taken  the  disease,  a 
miracle  worked  by  Heaven  in  their  favour. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

The  Due  de  Montausier's  First  Visit  to  Rambouillet.  —  Love 
at  First  Sight.  —  A  Constant  Lover.  —  Vincent  Voiture. 
— His  Sonnets  and  Letters.  —  His  Letter  to  Madame  dr, 
Sainctot.  —  Voiture  Reengendri.  —  De  Chavigny's  Im- 
promptu. —  Voiture's  Presumption.  —  Voiture  in  Love.  — ■ 
A  Wager. — Two  Sentinels.  —  A  Privileged  Buffoon. 

jHEN  the  plague  had  passed  away  from 
the  city,  and  the  period  of  mourning  at 
Rambouillet  was  ended,  the  marquise 
re-opened  her  salons  to  her  friends.  Amongst 
the  many  additions  to  her  circle,  the  most  distin- 
guished was  the  Marquis  de  Salles  —  afterwards 
the  celebrated  Due  de  Montausier.  His  first 
visit  to  Rambouillet  forms  an  epoch  in  the  annals 
of  the  famous  Hotel. 

The  marquis  was  then  just  twenty-one.  He 
had  heard  of  the  maternal  devotion  of  the  mar- 
quise and  the  filial  affection  of  her  daughter, 
and  admiration  of  their  conduct  induced  an  anx- 
ious desire  to  know  them.  The  renewal  of  the 
receptions  of  the  salon  bleu  afforded  him  the 
opportunity  of  an  introduction,  which  resulted 
in  his  falling  deeply  in  love,  at  first  sight,  with 
the  charming  Julie  d'Angennes.     Not  merely  in 

134 


LOVE  AT  FIRST  SIGHT  1 35 

the  sense  of  becoming  her  humble  servant,  ac- 
cording to  the  laws  of  chivalry,  to  be,  as  then 
insisted  upon,  observed  by  each  lady's  '' galaiit  et 
homietc  Jiomine,''  or,  if  you  please,  cavalier  d amour. 
Nothing  of  the  kind.  A  shaft  had  gone  straight 
from  Cupid's  bow  deep  down  into  the  heart  of 
the  young  marquis.  He  was  an  ardent  lover, 
and  fair  Julie  was  disposed  to  smile  graciously 
upon  him.  Here,  then,  the  course  of  true  love, 
one  would  suppose,  might  have  run  on  smoothly 
enough ;  for  the  lover  was  an  excellent  parti 
(generally  the  first  consideration)  and  a  man  of 
high  moral  worth.  But  he  had  the  misfortune, 
in  the  eyes  of  la  belle  Julie's  family,  to  be  a 
Huguenot ;  consequently  his  proposal  to  marry 
the  fair  daughter  of  the  House  of  Rambouillet- 
Pisani  could  not  be  entertained. 

The  character  of  the  Due  de  Montausier  has 
been  variously  represented  ;  so,  indeed,  has  that 
of  every  person  of  note  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. Some  of  the  numerous  memoir  and  letter 
writers  of  the  period  speak  of  him  as  "  le  verhieux 
ducT  Others  describe  him  as  captious  and  dis- 
agreeable ;  brnsq?ie  in  manner,  and  often  rude 
and  offensive  under  an  affectation  of  extreme 
frankness.  A  modern  writer*  says,  "  Le  due  de 
Montausier  est  le  plus  beau  caractc're  qui  ait  jamais 
e tonne  une  cour  corrompue.  II  etait  V ennemi  dn 
faux  en  tontes  choses."     And  it  seems  certain  that 

*  Roederer:  "  Memoires  pour  servir,"  etc. 


136  OLD  PARIS 

he  was  a  man  of  very  high  character,  incapable  of 
those  meannesses  and  flatteries  which  character- 
ized the  courtiers  of  his  day,  and  the  servile  herd 
that  so  abjectly  worshipped  Louis  XIV. 

The  name  of  the  Due  de  Montausier  is  insep- 
arable from  that  of  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  and 
its  society,  from  the  date  of  his  first  visit  there 
to  the  death  of  the  marquise.  His  twelve  years 
of  unfailing  constancy  to  Mademoiselle  d'Angen- 
nes  should  win  for  this  "Misanthrope"  (it  is  the 
character  of  the  duke  that  Moliere  is  supposed  to 
have  portrayed  in  his  play  of  that  name)  the 
suffrages  of  the  bean  sexe.  And  that  gallantry 
was  not  incompatible  with  the  severity  with  which 
he  has  been  charged,  the  famous  "  Guirlande  de 
Julie"  sufficiently  attests.*  Amongst  other  celeb- 
rities who  at  this  time  began  to  frequent  the  salon 
bleji,  were  Saint  Iivremond,  the  Abbe  Menage, 
the  sonneteer  Benserade,  Sarrazin,  the  eloquent 
avocat  Patru,  and  Scarron,  then  a  gay  youth  of 
twenty-one ;  also  the  Comtesse  de  la  Suze,  la 
Marquise  de  Sable,  and  other  ladies  whose  esprit 
or  poetic  talent  gave  them  celebrity  in  their  day. 

Vincent  Voiture  had  then  returned  to  Paris, 
and  for  none  was  a  warmer  welcome  awaiting 
at  Rambouillet  than  for  this  famous  bel  esprit. 
Voiture,  according  to  Voltaire,  was  the  first  in 
France  to  whom  the  appellation  of  bel  esprit  was 
given ;  beyond  which  he  had  but   little  claim  to 

*  See  Chap.  XVIII. 


VINCENT   VOITURE  1 37 

renown.  It  is  singular  that  while  Richelieu  was 
striving  to  separate  classes,  the  Marquise  de 
Rambouillet  was  endeavouring  to  assimilate  them, 
and  to  make  intellect  and  merit  rather  than 
feathers  and  jewels  the  distinguishing  marks  of 
pre-eminence  in  the  society  of  her  Hotel ;  to  found, 
in  fact,  on  a  community  of  sentiments,  tenden- 
cies, and  objects,  a  sort  of  equality  in  the  social 
relations. 

Voiture,  who  was  so  thoroughly  at  home  at 
Rambouillet  that  he  usually  ate  and  frequently 
slept  there,  was  the  son  of  a  rich  vintner  of 
Amiens,  who  followed  the  court  as  its  purveyor 
of  wine.  He  wrote  endless  pretty  sonnets  and 
innumerable  letters,  none  of  which  he  intended 
for  publication  beyond  that  wide  circle  of  friends 
and  acquaintances  to  whom,  by  turns,  they  were 
addressed.  But  his  letters,  like  those  of  Madame 
de  Sevigne,  were  handed  from  one  to  another, 
read  and  re-read,  copied  and  re-copied,  and  dis- 
tributed far  and  wide ;  thus  obtaining  in  the 
lifetime  of  the  writer  a  circulation  and  celebrity 
more  extensive  than,  probably,  in  the  present  day 
is  accorded  by  the  aid  of  much  advertising  to 
many  printed  works.  The  pathway  to  the  Temple 
of  Fame  would  seem  to  have  been  an  easy  one  in 
Voiture's  time,  to  judge  from  the  one  printed  letter 
that  obtained  him  an  immediate  introduction  to  it, 
while  so  many  have  entered  only  after  long  years 
of  toil.      It  might  have  been  suggested   and  prob- 


138  OLD  PARIS 

ably  was,  for  innumerable  puns  were  made  on  his 
name,  that  a  Voiture  would  be  likely  to  reach  the 
desired  goal  with  more  celerity  than  a  plodder-on, 
step  by  step,  up  the  rugged  road. 

The  letter  in  question,  which  achieved  celebrity 
for  Vincent  Voiture,  was  an  ordinary  love-letter, 
addressed  to  a  Madame  de  Sainctot,  with  whom  he 
fancied  himself  in  love,  but  who  was  far  more 
decidedly  in  love  with  him.  No  promise  of  tal- 
ent, no  indication  of  genius  appears  in  it.  The 
style  is  high-flown  and  inflated,  forced  and  fan- 
tastic in  the  extreme,  yet  not  witty.  But  Voiture 
must  have  considered  it  a  chcf-d' aiivre  of  its  kind, 
as  he  sent  a  copy  to  the  Comte  d'Avaux  (the 
same  who  afterwards  was  one  of  the  plenipoten- 
tiaries who  signed  the  Peace  of  Munster),  in  a 
book  he  had  borrowed  of  him, —  Du  Rosset's 
translation  of  "Ariosto."  Voiture,  who  was 
fairly  educated,  had  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  count  at  the  College  de  Boncourt.  Whether 
as  a  jest,  or  from  admiration  of  his  fellow- 
student's  production,  is  not  recorded,  the  count 
had  the  letter  printed.  It  was  offered  for  sale, 
and  its  success  was  so  astonishingly  great,  that 
many  thousands  of  copies  were  sold.  The  letter 
was  in  everybody's  hands,  and  Voiture's  name 
in  everybody's  mouth.  How  Madame  de  Sainctot 
liked  this  publication  of  her  billet-dotix  we  are 
not  informed.  But  probably  the  name  of  the 
lady  to  whom  this  famous  epistle  was  addressed 
was  not  then  made  known. 


VOITURE   REENGEiVDRA  1 39 

Some  friend  sent  a  copy  of  it  to  M.  de  Chau- 
debonne  —  chevalier  d' homieiir  of  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  —  who  was  very  greatly  amused  by  it. 
Meeting  Voiture  casually  in  Paris,  he  shook 
him  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  said  (as  M.  Roux, 
Voiture's  biographer,  remarks),  after  the  coarse 
manner  of  the  time,  ^^  Monsieur,  votis  etes  trap 
galant  Jioimne  pour  rester  dans  la  bourgeoisie,  il 
faut  que  je  vous  en  tire!'  M.  de  Chaudebonne 
was  an  intimate  friend  of  Madame  de  Rambouillet, 
and  it  was  by  an  introduction  to  her  that  he 
proposed  to  raise  his  protege  in  the  social  scale. 
And  Voiture  seems  in  those  early  days  of  his 
fame  to  have  made  himself  very  agreeable  to  the 
learned  circle  generally,  and  to  have  amused  the 
ladies  especially.  After  a  short  probation  he  was 
formally  received  by  the  marquise,  as  forming  one 
of  the  society  of  the  Hotel.  Voiture  called  his 
reception  within  that  charmed  circle,  being  "  ireji- 
gendre  par  M.  de  Chaudebojine  et  Madame  de 
Rambouillet^ 

After  this  rise  in  the  world,  his  first  patron, 
the  Comte  d'Avaux,  presented  Voiture  at  court ; 
and  M.  de  Chaudebonne,  bringing  his  interest  to 
bear  on  the  count's,  they  procured  for  him  the 
post  of  "  Introducteur  des  Ambassadeurs  chez  Mon- 
sieur,'' who  had  taken  the  title  of  Due  d'Orleans 
from  the  time  of  his  marriage  with  the  rich  heiress 
of  Montpensier.  This  sudden  and  great  advance- 
ment Voiture  rather  presumed  upon.     His  famil- 


I40  OLD   PARIS 

iarities  were  often  repelled  with  much  indignation, 
and  this  ^^  bourgeois  gentilJiomme''  received  some 
very  severe  rebuffs  while  learning  the  manners  of 
his  new  social  position.  But  at  the  best  he  was 
only  tolerated,  and  he  appears  to  have  been  as 
much  of  a  buffoon  as  a  wit.  Monsieur  le  Prince 
said  of  him  one  evening  at  Rambouillet,  "  Si 
Voittcre  ^tait  des  no  ires  on  ne  poiirrait  le  soiijfriry 
Voiture  having  been  informed  of  this  by  a  candid 
friend,   replied  :    "  '  Des   notres  '  ! 

"  Mais  c'est  bien  peu  de  chose  son  rang, 
II  n'est  que  premier  prince  du  sang." 

Often  he  was  mortified  by  direct  allusions  to  his 
father's  business,  which  his  own  abstemiousness 
afforded  opportunity  for.  De  Chavigny,  after- 
wards one  of  the  witty  and  satirical  song-writers 
of  the  Fronde,  remarking  one  day  when  dining 
with  Voiture  and  two  other  of  his  friends  that  he 
drank  but  little  wine,  broke  forth  with  the  follow- 
ing offensive  impromptu  : 

"  Quoi !     Voiture,  tu  degenere ! 
Sors  d'ici,  maugrebier  de  toy  ! 
Tu  ne  vaudras  jamais  ton  pere, 
Tu  ne  vends  du  vin,  ni  n'en  boy." 

But  Voiture  was  not  very  sensitive,  especially 
in  the  early  part  of  his  career.  So  long  as  he  was 
welcomed  at  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet,  he  was 
perfectly  happy.     The  young  Count  de  Pisani,  the 


VOITURE'S  PRESUMPTION  14I 

eldest  son  of  the  Marquise  de  Rambouillet,  had 
a  very  great  liking  for  him,  and  highly  enjoyed  his 
piquant  sayings,  his  witty  impromptus  (known  to 
have  been  the  result  of  long  and  careful  study), 
and  his  frequent  practical  jokes.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  Due  de  Montausier  felt  an  extreme  aver- 
sion towards  him,  and  could  see  nothing  either 
witty  or  amusing  in  his  familiar  sayings  and 
doings.  The  duke  had  a  great  regard  for  Made- 
moiselle de  Scudery,  and  was  in  the  habit  of  turn- 
ing to  her  when  any  of  Voiture's  sallies  made  the 
grave  literary  circle  unusually  mirthful,  with  the 
inquiry :  "  Y  trouvez-iwus  de  V esprit  ?  Moi  je  ny 
troiive  que  de  V  impertinence ^ 

Voiture,  in  the  excess  of  his  delight  at  finding 
himself  again  in  Paris  (he  had  just  returned  from 
Lorraine  with  the  Due  d' Orleans),  and  once  more 
beneath  the  roof  of  his  loved  Hotel  de  Ram- 
bouillet, was  guilty  of  an  unpardonable  offence  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Due  de  Montausier.  It  also  ex- 
cited the  indignation  of  Julie;  and  his  own  apolo- 
gies and  the  intercession  of  his  friend  Pisani 
scarcely  prevailed  on  the  marquise  to  pardon  it. 
He  had  stooped  and  kissed  the  arm  of  Mademoi- 
selle d'Angennes,  when  permitted,  as  a  great 
honour  on  his  return,  to  conduct  her  from  the 
music-room  to  the  salon  blen.  Poor  Voiture !  it 
was  no  easy  task  to  make  "//;/  galant  et  Jionnete 
homme"  of  him  after  the  pattern  of  Rambouillet, 
notwithstanding    that    his    regeneration    was    ac- 


142  OLD  PARIS 

complished  there.  Yet  he  no  doubt  enlivened 
the  society.  Tallemant  des  Reaux  says,  "he 
kept  up  a  perpetual  tintamanr  when  at  the 
Hotel,"  and  that  he  was  really  amusing  when 
not  in  love. 

He  was  apt  to  fall  in  love,  it  appears,  and  was 
then  extremely  stupid,  insisting  on  telling  every 
one  the  story  of  his  woes ;  for  it  was  usually 
one  of  sadness  and  sorrow  and  unrequited  love. 
"Voiture,"  says  Tallemant,  "held  the  erroneous, 
but  amusing  opinion,  that  all  knowledge  came  to 
a  man  of  good  sense  and  intelligence  without  any 
previous  study,  consequently  he  himself  studied 
nothing  except  his  numerous  impromptus!'  Voi- 
ture  and  young  Pisani  often  amused  themselves  by 
guessing  who  and  what  the  people  were  who  occa- 
sionally passed  the  Hotel.  A  grave-looking  person- 
age in  a  coach  was  guessed  one  day  by  Voiture  to 
be  "  un  hommc  da  la  robe!'  Pisani  made  a  bet  that 
he  was  not,  Voiture  that  he  was.  He  undertook 
also  to  put  the  question  to  the  traveller  as  the  only 
means  of  deciding  the  wager.  As,  with  many 
bows,  he  advanced  towards  him,  the  coach  was 
ordered  to  stop.  Voiture  then  inquired  of  its 
occupant,  with  apologies,  of  course,  what  was  his 
occupation  or  condition  in  life.  The  inquiry  was 
answered  only  by  surprise  and  indignation.  Voi- 
ture then  explained  that  it  was  a  wager,  and  a 
large  sum  depending  upon  it.  The  supposed 
*' homme  de  la  robe!'  however,  declined  to  afford 


A    PRIVILEGED   BUFFOON  1 43 

the  requested  information,  but  said  he  would 
give  the  gentleman  a  piei;e  of  advice :  "  GageZy' 
he  said,  ^^ gagez  toiijoiirs,  Monsieiir,  que  voiis  etes 
7m  sot,  et  V071S  ne  perdrez  jamais ^ 

Voiture  once  met  two  men  near  the  Rue  St. 
Thomas  leading  two  bears,  when  it  immediately- 
occurred  to  him,  as  a  good  joke,  to  introduce 
them  stealthily  into  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet. 
Having  succeeded  in  doing  so,  he  had  the  animals 
set  up  as  two  sentinels  at  the  door  of  the  mar- 
quise's private  cabmet  de  lecture,  causing,  of  course, 
a  great  deal  of  alarm  and  confusion.  He  took 
it  into  his  head,  on  one  occasion,  when  the  Comte 
de  Guiche  was  on  a  visit  to  the  Marquis  de  Ram- 
bouillet, to  wake  him  up  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  saying  he  had  most  important  news  for 
him.  With  some  difficulty  the  sleeper  was  roused 
sufficiently  to  inquire  what  the  news  was.  "  M.  le 
Comte,"  said  Voiture,  "some  time  ago  you  asked 
me  if  I  was  married.  I  have  decided  to  tell  you 
the  truth  —  I  am  married."  The  count  stared  at 
him,  thinking  he  was  in  a  dream.  At  last,  as 
he  threw  himself  into  his  bed  again,  he  called 
out:  "  Pestc !  Ait.  diable  Voiture,  vojis  et  votre 
fannied  Voiture  seems  to  have  been  allowed 
the  privileges  of  a  court  fool  at  the  Hotel  de 
Rambouillet.  Yet  lucrative  places,  and  sinecures 
that  he  sought  not,  were  heaped  upon  him,  and 
later  on,  honours  that  he  cared  not  for  —  having 
no    inclination    to    meddle    either    in    politics    or 


144  OLD   PARIS 

diplomacy,  though  it  was  his  fate  to  be  mixed 
up  in  both.  All  he  desired  was  to  make  love 
to  Angelique  Paulet,  and  to  write  fantastic  and 
sentimental  letters  to  her  and  to  the  rest  of 
the  belles  dames  of  Rambouillet. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Conrart's  Petite  Academie. — The  Cardinal's  Secretary. —  Ad- 
mitted to  the  Salon  Conrart.  —  Received  as  Tenth  Member. 
—  French  Academy  founded.  —  "  Le  Cid"  of  Corneille. — 
The  Academy  invited  to  decry  it.  —  "  Le  Cid  "  first  read  in 
the  Salon  Bleu.  —  Le  Dictionnaire  de  I'Academie.  —  Un 
Bureau  d'Esprit.  —  The  Vicomte  de  Combalet.  —  The 
Widowed  Madame  de  Combalet.  —  Becomes  la  Duchesse 
d'Aiguillon.  —  The  rival  Salons.  —  The  Salon  Bleu  still 
bears  the  Palm. 

[T  had  been  for  some  time  the  custom 
of  a  few  literary  men  —  nine  in  number 
—  to  assemble  on  certain  evenings  at 
the  Hotel  of  the  rich  financier,  Conrart,  a 
great  patron  of  literature  and  himself  a  writer. 
Their  object  was  free  discussion  on  learned 
subjects;  also  the  improvement  of  the  French 
language,  by  bringing  into  discredit  certain  words 
in  general  use  by  coarse  writers  of  that  day, 
and  banishing  from  familiar  conversation  those 
pompous  terms  in  which  it  was  becoming  cus- 
tomary to  clothe  the  most  simple  ideas.  These 
literati  were  all  frequenters  of  the  Hotel  de 
Rambouillet,  but  at  Conrart's  private  reunions  — 
to  which  they  gave  the  name  of  the  ^'Petite 
Academie'' — they  were  under  far  less  restraint. 

MS 


146  OLD   PARIS 

No  ladies  were  present  towards  whom  it  was 
their  privilege  or  irksome  duty  to  play  the  part 
of  "galants  homines,''  and  the  etiquette  observed 
in  the  salon  bleu  —  to  their  great  relief,  no  doubt 
—  was  not  insisted  upon  in  the  Salon  Conrart. 

The  meetings  of  this  select  and  learned  "  Coun- 
cil of  Nine  "  soon  came  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
indefatigable  Boisrobert,  who  was  ever  ready  to 
play  the  part  of  jackal  to  the  lion  De  Richelieu. 
Always  was  he  keenly  on  the  watch  to  snatch  at 
any  and  every  thing  that  promised  to  afford  but  a 
shred  towards  the  weaving  of  that  cloak  of  false 
glory  with  which  the  cardinal-minister  was  to  daz- 
zle the  eyes  of  posterity,  despite  the  personal  vices 
it  concealed,  and  the  merciless  tyranny  by  which 
he  extinguished  the  liberties  of  the  people.  Bois- 
robert, therefore,  sought  admission  to  the  reunions 
of  the  Salon  Conrart.  But  it  was  contrary  to  the 
rules  of  the  Petite  Academie  to  admit  outsiders, 
and  as  a  man  of  letters,  Boisrobert  could  claim  no 
consideration  whatever.  He  was  in  repute,  in  fact, 
only  with  his  master,  and  even  he  valued  him  less 
for  his  small  poetic  talent  than  for  a  certain  genial 
humour  and  flow  of  spirits  that  often  dispelled  the 
fits  of  spleen  he  was  subject  to.* 

*  Citois,  the  cardinal's  physician,  when  summoned  to  pre- 
scribe for  his  Eminence  in  his  hours  of  gloom  and  depression, 
was  accustomed,  we  are  told,  after  writing  his  prescription,  to 
add :  "  No  recipe  so  effectual  as  a  drachm  of  Boisrobert."  And 
Boisrobert,  though  a  very  unclerical  personage,  was  rewarded 
with  the  Abbacy  of  Chatillon-sur-Seine. 


THE    CARDINAL'S   SECRETARY  1 47 

Antoine  Godeau,  who  had  put  the  Bmediciti 
into  verse,  for  which  the  cardinal,  for  the  sake  of 
making  z.  jeii  de  mots,  gave  him  the  bishopric  of 
Grasse,  was  one  of  the  Nine.  To  him,  as  having 
a  sort  of  claim  upon  his  good  offices,  Boisrobert 
addressed  himself.  And,  through  Godeau's  influ- 
ence, the  stringent  rule  "  that  no  strangers  be 
admitted  "  was  relaxed  in  favour  of  the  powerful 
minister's  secretary.  After  reporting  to  his  master 
what  he  had  done  and  had  seen  and  heard,  he  sug- 
gested that  with  a  larger  number  of  members  and 
a  legal  form  given  to  it,  such  an  assembly  might 
become  an  influential  one  in  the  literary  world. 
The  suggestion  was  favourably  received  by  his 
Eminence.  He  saw  in  it  both  present  and  future 
renown,  as  the  patron  and  protector  of  men  of 
learning  and  as  the  enlightened  minister  who  first, 
in  France,  gave  an  impulse  to  the  cultivation  of 
letters.  Boisrobert  was  authorized  to  propose,  in 
the  cardinal's  name,  that  the  Petite  Academic 
should  extend  its  limited  circle  and  increase  its 
sphere  of  usefulness  by  placing  itself  under  legal 
sanction. 

The  proposal  was  not  well  received.  The  little 
society  did  not  desire  the  interference  of  the  car- 
dinal. Its  members,  therefore,  deputed  Boisrobert 
to  represent  to  him  that  by  increasing  their  num- 
ber and  fettering  themselves  with  legal  forms,  one 
of  the  chief  objects  of  their  meetings  —  the  spend- 
ing   the    evenings    together   as    intimate   private 


148  OLD   PARIS 

friends,  in  order  to  discuss  freely  and  irresponsibly 
certain  literary  questions,  and  other  topics  of  inter- 
est to  them  and  their  host  —  would  at  once  be  at 
an  end.  For  a  time,  there  the  matter  rested  ;  but 
neither  Boisrobert  nor  the  cardinal  had  given  it  up. 
The  former,  by  perseverance,  obtained  admission 
to  the  Petite  Academic  as  its  tenth  member.  By 
degrees,  and  through  his  influence,  eight  others 
were  introduced,  when  the  question  of  "  legal 
form  "  was  again  brought  on  the  tapis  and  put 
to  the  vote.  The  original  nine  voted  against  it, 
also  one  of  the  new  members,  so  that  the  cardinal 
was  yet  in  a  minority.  Boisrobert  still  persevered, 
intrigued  and  insisted,  until  the  number  of  mem- 
bers was  increased  to  twenty-eight. 

His  Eminence  himself  now  appeared  on  the 
scene,  secure  of  victory,  for  his  indefatigable  sec- 
retary had  already  secured  it  for  him.  A  majority 
of  the  society  decided  in  favour  of  the  cardinal's 
proposal  to  found  an  Academie  Franqaise,  and  con- 
sequently in  1634  the  regulations  for  the  forma- 
tion of  the  society  were  drawn  up, —  Balzac, 
Vaugelas,  Chapelain  and  Voiture  becoming  mem- 
bers. In  January,  1635,  the  letters  patent  for  the 
legal  establishment  of  the  Academy  and  its  forty 
arm-chairs  were  given.  Those  were  not  the  first 
royal  letters  authorizing  the  establishment  of  an 
Academy.  Charles  IX.  granted  them  in  1570  to 
the  poet  Antoine  de  Baif,  and  the  musician  Thi- 
bault  de  Courville,  for  similar  objects,   "  the  im- 


FRENCH  ACADEMY  FOUNDED  1 49 

provement  and  progress  of  the  French  language/' 
but  the  civil  war  and  religious  persecutions  prob- 
ably prevented  their  being  acted  upon. 

To  acquire  the  art  of  speaking  easily  and  well, 
with  fluency,  correctness,  and  polished  diction,  was 
a  chief  aim  of  those  long  conversations  at  Ram- 
bouillet  on  literary  and  other  given  subjects.  But 
the  very  undue  reputation  accorded  to  Voiture  had 
induced  a  desire  to  imitate  him  ;  consequently,  his 
faults  were  exaggerated,  being  easiest  of  imitation, 
while  his  originality,  his  sole  claim  to  merit,  was 
altogether  wanting ;  and  thus  both  in  epistolary 
writings  and  in  conversation  an  affected  phrase- 
ology was  introduced  under  the  name  of  refine- 
ment. Voiture  was  credited  with  a  style  both 
poetic  and  perfect ;  but  it  is  laboured  in  the 
extreme.  It  gives  one  the  idea  of  a  striving  and 
writhing  after  wit;  of  an  effort,  not  always  suc- 
cessful, to  produce  an  epigram  in  every  sentence. 
Ingenious  turns  of  thought  are  frequent  in  his 
epistles,  but  one  naturally  expressed  is  rarely 
met  with. 

The  writer  of  vapid  missives  to  fine  ladies 
was  little  qualified  to  sit  in  judgment  on  a  cJicf- 
doeiivre  of  the  grand  Corneille,  who  created  the 
style  tragiqiie,  ennobled  the  French  language, 
and  elevated  the  genius  of  the  nation.  But  it 
was  Voiture's  fate  to  be  thrust  into  positions 
for  which  he  had  neither  qualification  nor  in- 
clination,   and    thus    it    fell    to    his    lot    to    be 


150  OLD   PARIS 

included  in  that  assembly  of  academicians  in- 
vited by  the  cardinal  to  condemn  "  Le  Cid." 
It  was  the  first  considerable  work  they  had 
been  required  to  exercise  their  critical  powers 
upon.  Its  triumph  displeased  his  Eminence  be- 
cause it  was  the  triumph  of  genius,  and  his 
Academy  was  expected  to  decry  it ;  to  pronounce 
it  as  failing  to  satisfy  in  its  construction,  as  a 
play,  the  requirements  of  dramatic  art,  while  as 
a  poem  it  was  poor  in  thought  and  sentiment, 
and  wanting  in  that  elevation  of  style  which 
the  loftiness  of  the  subject  demanded.  But 
probably  neither  the  cardinal  nor  the  Academy 
was  capable  of  appreciating  Corneille.  Duly  to 
estimate  his  beauties,  and  to  point  out  his  faults, 
some  good  models  of  French  dramatic  writing 
on  which  to  form  correct  judgment  and  good 
taste  must  already  have  come  under  the  notice 
of  his  critics.  But  none  existed.  Pierre  Cor- 
neille was  himself  the  first  to  offer  such  a 
model,  and  as  a  pioneer  in  literature  to  open 
the  pathway  to  that  excellence  attained  by  the 
later  poets,  as  also  to  the  acquirement  of  that 
harmony,  lucidity,  and  beauty  of  style,  character- 
istic of  the  best  French  prose  writers. 

All  the  earlier  and  best  pieces  of  Corneille 
were  first  read  in  the  famous  salon  bleu,  and 
received  there  the  warmest  tribute  of  admiration 
from  its  distinguished  society.  Whether  the 
refinements    of    Rambouillet    were    at    all    influ- 


Corncille 


"Z^  CID"    OF  CORNEILLE  I5I 

ential  in  forming  the  style  of  Corneille  can, 
of  course,  only  be  conjectured;  but  it  may  be 
affirmed  that  no  writings  of  that  period  contrib- 
uted more  largely  than  his  towards  accomplish- 
ing the  purely  literary  objects  of  the  reunions 
of  the  celebrated  marquise.  His  academical 
critics  had  doubtless  been  present  at  the  first 
reading  of  the  "  Cid,"  and,  like  the  rest  of  the 
company,  had  approved  it.  Called  upon  to  con- 
demn, and  to  award  the  palm  of  excellence  in 
dramatic  writing  to  Georges  de  Scudery,  they 
refrained  from  doing  so.  Their  opinions  were, 
however,  given  with  considerable  reserve,  and 
some  defects,  as  they  conceived,  in  the  conduct 
of  the  action  of  the  piece  were  pointed  out, 
probably  that  they  might  not  be  altogether 
opposed  in  their  judgment  to  the  wishes  of  his 
Eminence. 

The  French  language  at  the  time  of  the 
foundation  of  the  Academy  retained,  like  the 
manners  of  the  age,  too  many  traces  of  the 
coarseness  and  barbarism  of  the  preceding  cen- 
tury. As  a  means  towards  effecting  its  desired 
purification,  Chapelain,  who,  though  an  inferior 
poet,  was  a  man  of  considerable  erudition  and 
well  acquainted  with  several  languages,  sug- 
gested to  his  colleagues  the  compilation  of  a 
standard  French  dictionary,  from  which  all  words 
whose  use  was  not  sanctioned  by  the  Academy 
should    be   expunged,   and   others    that    it    might 


152  OLD   PARIS 

be  desirable  to  substitute  for  them  introduced. 
His  suggestion  was  approved  of.  The  famous 
^^  Dictionnaire  de  V  Acad^niie  Franqaise''  was 
begun,  and  Chapelain  Hved  to  see  the  work 
ended,  though  it  was  not  completed  and  issued 
until  forty  years  after.  One  cause  of  the  delay 
—  the  chief  one,  in  fact  —  was  the  immense 
correspondence  the  undertaking  led  to,  and  the 
number  of  discussions  it  occasioned  on  the 
rejection,  adoption  and  retention  of  a  variety  of 
words. 

The  head-quarters  of  la  soci^t^  polie  had, 
naturally,  a  voice  in  the  matter.  Julie  d'An- 
gennes,  in  a  series  of  letters  in  a  lively  strain, 
contended  successfully  with  the  learned  acade- 
micians for  the  retention  of  the  useful  word 
car,  which  they  had  proposed  to  abolish.  It 
was  then  in  too  frequent  use,  and  a  stiff  and 
laboured  style  of  writing  was  the  result.  By 
its  means  "  dcs  geutillcssesy  to  quote  the  words 
of  M.  Taine,  ^^  s  allongeaiait  en  phrases  aussi 
coiiccrtees  qiiune  dissertation  academiqucr  Still 
it  was  not  desirable  to  suppress  it  altogether; 
and  probably  the  Academy  could  not  have  done 
so,  especially  as  no  acceptable  equivalent  was 
offered  for  it.  But  it  was  well  to  call  attention 
to  and  to  deprecate  its  unsparing  use,  so  com- 
mon in  the  writings  of  that  day. 

A  rival  salon  now  offered  its  attractions  to 
the  academicians   and  gc7is   de   lettres   generally. 


UN  BUREAU  D' ESPRIT  I  53 

Most  appropriately  it  was  that  of  the  niece 
of  their  patron,  who  was  about  to  exchange  his 
red  hat  for  a  helmet,  and  to  assume  the  spear 
and  shield.  A  herald,  armed  cap-a-pie,  had  been 
sent  to  Brussels  to  declare  in  the  name  of  the 
potent  Louis  XIII.  his  hostile  intentions  against 
his  brother-in-law  and  cousin  of  Spain,  and  the 
cardinal  and  the  king  were  going  to  the  wars.* 
The  former  determined  that  France  should  be  a 
terror  to  her  enemies  and  neighbours,  however 
wretched  and  depressed  her  people  might  be 
under  his  grinding  despotism  at  home.  In  his 
absence  his  band  of  poets  would  be  welcomed 
by  his  niece,  who  aspired  to  a  literary  reputa- 
tion, and  whose  lover  he  was.  Her  salon  at  the 
Petit  Luxembourg  —  where  she  lived  in  a  style 
corresponding  to  the  magnificence  so  ostenta- 
tiously displayed  by  her  uncle  —  had  already 
obtained  the  name  of  the  '■^ bureau  d' esprit!' 

In  1620,  when  Richelieu  —  or  rather  Du  Pies- 
sis,  for  he  was  then  only  Bishop  of  Lu^on  —  was 
residing  in  seclusion  at  Avignon,  and  sharing 
to  some  extent  in  the  disgrace  that  Marie  de 
Medicis  had  brought  on  herself  by  countenancing 
the  misrule  of  her  favourite  Concini,  he  married 
this  niece,  then  a  girl  of  fifteen,  to  the  Vicomte 
Antoine  de  Combalet.  She  appears  to  have  dis- 
liked him  extremely  ;  but  feeling,  as  we  know,  was 

*  This  was  the  last  occasion,  1635, ""  which  a  herald  was  sent 
to  announce  a  declaration  of  war. 


154  OLD  PARIS 

not  then  taken  into  account  in  such  matters,  when 
otherwise  the  match  was  desirable.  So  great  was 
her  aversion  to  him,  that  she  fell  into  a  melan- 
choly and  desponding  state  that  affected  both  her 
mind  and  her  health. 

Recalled  to  court  two  years  after  and  raised 
to  the  dignity  of  cardinal,  through  the  interest  of 
Marie  de  Medicis,  Richelieu  obtained  for  M.  de 
Combalet  the  command  of  a  detachment  of  troops 
destined  to  harass  the  Huguenots.  In  this  expe- 
dition he  was  killed,  as  it  was  expected  he  would 
be,  or  —  if  he  failed  to  answer  the  expectations  of 
his  friends  —  intended  that  he  should  be.  His 
widow  immediately  retired  to  the  convent  of  the 
Carmelites  ;  by  no  means  with  a  desire  to  take 
the  veil,  but  to  remain  en  retraite  for  the  first 
year  of  her  widowhood.  On  the  expiration  of 
that  year,  alarmed  lest  she  should  again  be  forced 
into  a  marriage  opposed  to  her  inclinations,  she 
took  vows  of  seclusion  for  twelve  months,  and 
twice  renewed  them.  But  as  her  uncle  grew 
wealthy  and  powerful,  his  ambition  led  him  to 
aspire  to  a  very  brilliant  parti  for  the  young 
widow  —  even  (as  Tallemant  des  Reaux  asserts) 
Gascon  d'Orleans,  the  king's  brother. 

Whether  true  or  not  that  such  was  Riche- 
lieu's vain  ambition,  Madame  de  Combalet  neither 
married  Gascon  nor  any  second  husband.  No 
longer  a  timid  girl,  she  left  the  Carmelites  and 
entered  the    gay    society    of   the   world    of   fash- 


THE   WIDOWED  MADAME  DE  CO  MB  A  LET   I  55 

ion ;  by  degrees  casting  aside  every  vestige  of 
widow's  dress,  and,  contrary  to  long-established 
custom,  wearing  colours.  This  innovation  found 
favour  with  the  widowed  part  of  the  beaii  monde, 
and  Madame  de  Combalet's  example  was  very  gen- 
erally followed.  To  her  it  is  owing  that  French 
widows  may,  if  they  so  choose,  wear  any  colour 
but  green, —  green  did  not  suit  her  complexion, 
therefore,  for  widows'  use,  a  strict  embargo  was 
laid  upon  it.  By-and-by  the  kind  uncle  installed 
his  niece  in  the  Petit  Luxembourg,  which  he  fur- 
nished with  extraordinary  splendour ;  and  as  even 
the  name  of  De  Combalet  was  particularly  dis- 
tasteful to  her,  in  1632  he  bought  the  lands  that 
constituted  the  domain  of  the  Duchy  of  Aiguillon 
and  presented  them  to  her.  The  estate  carried 
with  it  the  title,  and  henceforth  Madame  de  Com- 
balet was  known  only  as  la  Duchesse  d'Aiguillon. 
The  salon  of  the  Petit  Luxembourg  never 
acquired  either  the  vogue  or  literary  celebrity 
of  that  of  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet.  It  was 
darkened  by  the  shadow  of  Richelieu,  who  was 
hated  even  more  than  he  was  feared.  The  duchess 
was  also  greatly  under  the  influence  of  le  Pere 
Vincent  de  Paul,  of  whose  zeal  in  establishing 
religious  houses  and  founding  asylums  and  refuges 
the  Parliament  openly  complained,  saying  it 
threatened  to  fill  Paris  with  idle  vagrants  and 
illegitimate  children.  The  court,  the  literary 
world,  and  the  Church,  each  by  turns,  was,  there- 


156  OLD  PARIS 

fore,  in  the  ascendant.  Sometimes  the  political 
intrigues  of  the  cardinal,  at  others  the  awakened 
conscience  and  consequent  retraite  of  the  hostess, 
suspended  the  seances  litteraires  ;  while  the  various 
conflicting  public  and  private  interests  that  agi- 
tated the  society  of  the  period,  but  which  lay 
dormant  in  the  neutral  atmosphere  of  Rambouillet, 
formed  naturally  a  disturbing  element,  though  the 
expression  of  it  was  suppressed  in  the  company 
frequenting  the  salon  of  the  great  minister's  niece. 
There  was  no  easy  unrestrained  flow  of  con- 
versation ;  for  who  could  be  sure  that  a  spy  did 
not  lurk  under  the  pleasant  exterior  of  some 
apparently  genial  guest  of  the  duchess .-'  or  that 
some  harmless  or  thoughtless  expression  might 
not  be  tortured  into  a  sign  of  the  disaffection  of 
the  speaker  towards  the  powers  that  ruled  .-'  Pos- 
sibly, too — one  fears  to  say  probably,  for  even 
at  Rambouillet,  though  the  manners  were  punctil- 
ious, it  was  not  because  the  society  was  really 
very  strait-laced  —  possibly,  then,  some  one,  two, 
or  even  three  grandes  dames  of  that  day  might 
not  have  chosen  to  give  their  countenance  to  the 
cardinal's  niece,  and  to  a  liaison  which  was  so 
repugnant  to  the  severe  principles  of  Louis  XIII., 
that  on  account  of  it  and  other  irregularities  of 
the  cardinal's  private  life,  he  for  a  considerable 
time  refrained  from  raising  him  to  the  post  of 
minister.  That  he  eventually  did  so  was  because 
the  weak    mind    fell    under  the  dominion    of  the 


THE  SALON  BLEU  STILL  BEARS  THE  PALM   I  57 

strong  one,  and  henceforth  the  king  merely  reigned 
while  the  cardinal  governed.  But  Louis  had,  at 
least,  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  no  man 
was  so  well  qualified  as  Richelieu  to  carry  out  his 
despotic  views  and  his  notions  of  the  absolute 
authority  with  which  he  believed  kings  were 
divinely  invested. 

But  to  return  to  the  Petit  Luxembourg :  it 
was  not  a  success ;  and  in  spite  of  the  finely 
painted  ceilings,  for  which  it  was  celebrated,  and 
the  almost  regal  decorations  of  the  salons,  the 
more  simple  but  tasteful  and  elegant  salon  bleu 
still  bore  away  the  palm,  and  experienced  no 
falling  off  in  the  number  of  its  literary  and 
other  distinguished  guests.  Yet  the  cardinal's 
stringent  measures  to  secure  the  separation  of 
classes  did  not  extend  to  the  receptions  of  his 
niece,  and  exclusiveness  was  no  more  the  rule  in 
the  "  bureau  d' esprit "  of  the  duchess  than  in  the 
salon  litt^raire  of  the  marquise.  But  the  latter 
may  have  been  the  more  pleasing  hostess ;  her 
family  group,  too,  was  attractive :  la  belle  Julie, 
staid  and  statuesque ;  her  younger  sister,  lively 
and  coquettish ;  the  youthful  Count  Pisani,  the 
heir  of  the  House  of  Rambouillet,  and  its  good- 
humoured  genial  head,  the  marquis.  He,  indeed, 
was  frequently  employed  in  diplomatic  affairs,  but 
when  at  home  was  proud  to  be  the  '^galant 
homme"  of  his  marquise,  whom  he  regarded  in  all 
respects  as  "the  first  of  womankind." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Contrasts  and  Changes  in  French  Society.  —  The  World  and  the 
Cloister.  — Vincent  a  Popular  Confessor.  —  He  retires  to  the 
Oratoire.  —  Preceptor  to  the  Sons  of  De  Gondy.  —  Spiritual 
Director  of  Louis  XIII. —  Successful  Appeals  for  Alms. — 
The  Sisters  of  Charity.  —  L'Hopital  des  Enfants  Trouves. — 
Le  Commandeur  de  Sillery. —  Story  of  Vincent's  Earlier 
Life.  —  The  Captive  Greek.  —  Vincent  a  Friend  to  the  Poor. 

|ANY  contrasts,  no  less  striking  than 
strange,  are  presented  by  the  changes 
that  took  place  in  the  manners  and 
habits  of  French  society  from  the  beginning  to 
the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Singu- 
larly, too,  the  career  of  almost  every  woman  of 
high  rank  who  acquired  celebrity  during  any 
part  of  that  century,  offers  in  the  various  phases 
of  its  own  often  short  span  an  epitome  of  the 
changing  moods  of  the  outward  life  of  the  whole 
period.  First,  the  ignorance  and  superstition  of 
early  years,  resulting  from  convent  training. 
Next,  a  plunge  into  the  dissipations  of  a  de- 
praved court  and  an  immoral  age  —  irregularities 
of  conduct  being  glossed  over  with  a  varnish  of 
false  sentiment  and  affected  refinements  of  speech 
and  manner.  Then,  temporary  withdrawal,  after 
a    satiety    of     the     so-called     pleasures     of     the 

158 


THE    WORLD   AND    THE    CLOISTER  I59 

world,  to  the  seclusion  of  some  fashionable 
religious  retreat,  for  the  occasional  discipline 
of  a  horsehair  chemise.  Or,  as  then  too  often 
happened,  to  hide  forever  in  the  gloom  of  the 
cloister  a  once  lovely  face,  now  disfigured  by 
that  dreaded  bane  of  beauty,  small-pox.  Or, 
again,  when  the  charms  of  youth  had  fled,  to 
seek  compensation  in  the  deference  paid  to  the 
airs  and  graces  of  assumed  piety  when  faded 
coquettes  became  severe  devotees. 

Just  as  in  the  latter  part  of  his  reign,  and 
after  a  dissolute  life,  the  change  of  fashion  in 
his  court  from  depravity  to  religion — or  rather 
the  hypocritical  semblance  of  it — quieted  the 
qualms  of  conscience  that  had  begun  to  disturb 
the  magnificent  Louis  XIV.,  who  is  said  to  have 
looked  forward  to  continuing  his  role  of  Grand 
Monarque  even  in  the  next  world.  And  not  only 
the  servility  of  his  courtiers  was  calculated  to 
confirm  him  in  this  expectation,  if  he  really 
entertained  it  —  and  it  is  not  unlikely  —  but  even 
that  of  the  great  court-preachers  of  the  day, 
who  made  him  the  hero  of  their  discourses ; 
which  for  the  greater  part  were  but  eloquent 
panegyrics  of  the  God  of  Versailles,  before  whom 
it  was  almost  sacrilege  to  hint  that  there  existed 
a  greater  God  than  he. 

The  Duchesse  d'Aiguillon  was  one  of  those 
grattdes  dames  who  long  balanced  between  love 
of  this  world  and  fear  of  losing  the  next.     After 


l6o  OLD   PARIS 

the  death  of  her  uncle,  she  fell  entirely  under 
the  control  of  her  confessor,  Vincent  de  Paul, 
who  is  represented  as  of  gentle  and  insinuating 
manners,  "qui  plaisaient  beaucoup  anx  peche- 
resses  rcpcntantesy  He  was  so  mild,  so  indul- 
gent, that  he  readily  excused  all  faults ;  so  candid 
that  he  willingly  acknowledged  the  weakness 
of  poor  human  nature  and  its  liability  to  trip. 
He  first  became  popular  with  the  ladies  of  the 
court  as  a  confessor  from  having  filled  that  of- 
fice very  satisfactorily  to  the  Princess  Marguerite, 
first  wife  of  Henry  IV.,  during  the  last  two  or 
three  years  of  her  life,  when,  as  her  biographer 
says,  "  elle  etait  vouee  a  la  picte!' 

But  this  inclination  to  excuse,  to  indulge,  to 
pardon  others,  was  so  excessive,  that  "  M.  Vin- 
cent himself  was  drawn  into  some  forgetfulness 
of  the  severity  of  the  laws  of  ecclesiastical 
discipline."*  He  even  thought  it  necessary  to 
abide  for  a  time  with  the  religious  confraternity 
of  les  Peres  de  I'Oratoire.  This  vast  foundation 
owes  its  origin  in  France  to  le  Pere  Pierre 
de  Berulle,  afterwards  cardinal.  Its  establish- 
ment was  based  on  the  idea  that,  however  pure 
a  man's  life  may  be,  he  has  his  moments  of 
weakness,  of  faint-heartedness  and  want  of  moral 
force,  when  it  would  be  useful  to  open  to  him 
a  house  of  retreat  where  he  could  collect  his 
thoughts,  and  by  meditation,  and  especially  by 
*  See  "  Vie  de  Vincent  de  Paul,"  par  Capefigue. 


VINCENT  RETIRES   TO   THE   OR  A  TO  IRE    l6l 

prayer,  regain  strength  of  mind.  Hence  the 
name  of  I'Oratoire.  The  establishment  was 
under  the  direction  of  le  Pere  de  Berulle.  He 
was  the  friend  of  Vincent  who  with  him  first 
visited  Paris. 

To  De  Berulle  he  confessed  on  the  occasion  of 
the  weakness  referred  to  —  which  is  said  to  have 
been  allowing  love  to  slip  unawares  into  his  sus- 
ceptible heart  —  all  the  errors  and  moral  failures 
of  his  life.  For  two  years  this  really  kindly- 
natured,  sympathizing  and  tender-hearted  priest 
struggled  with  feelings  which  might,  perhaps, 
have  been  more  easily  overcome  by  active  occu- 
pation i,n  the  world  than  by  solitude  and  medita- 
tion. He  is  supposed,  however,  to  have  thoroughly 
subdued  them  when  he  left  the  Oratoire,  though, 
in  some  sort  as  a  further  penance,  and  to  restrain 
a  naturally  impetuous  imagination,  De  Berulle 
induced  him  to  accept  the  small  curacy  of  Clichy. 
But  he  soon  resigned  it,  and  became  preceptor  to 
the  three  sons  of  Emanuel  de  Gondy,  Comte  de 
Joigny  —  his  youngest  pupil  being  the  witty, 
intriguing,  turbulent  and  famous  coadjutor  of 
Paris  of  the  time  of  the  Fronde,  Jean  Francois  de 
Gondy,  afterwards  Cardinal  de  Retz. 

The  Comte  de  Joigny,  according  to  an  anec- 
dote, said  to  be  authentic,  was  induced  by  Vincent 
to  renounce  the  practice  of  duelling, —  every  dis- 
pute, every  difference  of  opinion,  was  then  settled 
by  a  duel,  and  no  gentleman  could  refuse  to  draw 


1 62  OLD   PARIS 

his  sword  when  his  adversary,  who  might  be  his 
most  intimate  friend,  demanded  a  meeting.  Every 
duel  of  consequence  —  that  is,  where  each  party 
to  it  considered  his  honour  especially  concerned 
in  maintaining  himself,  however  much  in  the 
wrong  in  the  quarrel,  to  be  essentially  in  the  right 
—  was  preceded  by  mass  and  communion;  for 
one,  if  not  both,  of  the  antagonists  must  look  for 
death.  This  law  of  the  middle  ages  was  still 
observed — that  "each  cavalier  when  he  faced  his 
adversary  must  be  in  a  state  of  grace  —  ready 
also  to  face  his  God." 

The  Comte  de  Joigny,  preparing  himself  for 
a  duel  of  this  kind,  had  just  finished  his  devo- 
tions, and  was  leaving  the  chapel  where  Vincent 
had  officiated,  when  a  few  solemn  words  fell  on 
his  ear,  as  if  of  a  voice  from  Heaven  commanding 
him  to  stay.  Somewhat  startled,  he  turned  back 
a  step.  He  was  face  to  face  with  his  priest,  who 
had  followed  him,  and  who  at  once  began  earnestly 
to  expatiate  on  the  wickedness  and  folly  of  the 
act  he  was  about  to  engage  in.  Vincent  had  the 
gift  of  speaking  powerfully  and  impressively,  and 
in  this  case  seems  to  have  used  it  most  effectively. 
For  the  count  gave  up  the  duel,  and,  lowering  the 
point  of  his  sword,  swore  an  oath  upon  it  never 
again  to  take  part  in  one, —  a  proof  of  the  posses- 
sion of  great  moral  courage,  for  any  gentleman 
refusing  a  duel  might  then  be  openly  branded 
with  cowardice, 


SPIRITUAL    DIRECTOR    OF  LOUIS  XIH.      1 63 

After  Vincent  became  the  spiritual  director 
and  confessor  of  Louis  XIII.,  he  was  accustomed 
to  say  mass  every  Friday  in  the  chapel  of  the 
Louvre,  where  the  court,  as  well  as  all  who 
were  distinguished  for  charity  and  piety,  rarely 
failed  to  assemble.  When  the  service  was  ended, 
it  was  the  custom  of  Vincent  to  address  his  con- 
gregation on  behalf  of  some  one  of  his  numerous 
charities.  Having  worked  on  the  feelings  of  his 
attentive  listeners  by  harrowing  descriptions, 
which  were  probably  not  overdrawn,  of  the  misery 
and  wretchedness  of  the  unfortunates  for  whom 
he  was  pleading,  and  told  the  sympathizing  gmnds 
seigneurs  et  dames  how  a  little  self-denial  might 
alleviate  great  suffering,  he  would  suddenly  pro- 
duce from  under  his  surplice  the  bag  or  purse  for 
the  collection  of  the  alms,  and  pass  it  round  to 
them.  The  ladies  vied  with  each  other  in  their 
eagerness  to  fill  it  with  gold  and  jewels  ;  for  in 
their  enthusiasm  they  divested  themselves  of  all 
such  superfluities  to  supply  the  needs  of  the 
poor. 

No  preacher  of  the  day  was  so  successful  as 
Vincent  in  his  appeals  for  alms.  And  he  was  not 
always  solemn  or  severe ;  for  he  was  a  true 
Gascon,  and  could  effectively  mingle  wit  and 
pleasantry  in  his  most  earnest  addresses.  He 
has  been  thought  to  have  presented  his  bag  rather 
too  often,  and  his  enemies  have  also  accused  him 
of  amassing  wealth.     But  as  he  left  no  wealth,  and 


164  OLD   PARIS 

had  so  many  charities  to  provide  for,  it  is  only 
fair  to  believe  that  although  he  collected  large 
sums  and  received  grants  of  lands  and  consider- 
able donations  of  money,  the  demands  upon  his 
resources  were  so  heavy  that  little  or  none  was 
left  for  hoarding.  He  established  the  foundling 
hospital,  the  asylum  for  poor  lunatics,  that  for 
fallen  and  repentant  women,  and  several  schools 
for  the  instruction  of  poor  children  of  both  sexes 
in  Paris  and  the  villages  around  it. 

The  non-cloistered  community  of  the  sisters  of 
charity  was  also  founded  by  Vincent  de  Paul. 
All  the  younger  ladies  were  immediately  bent  on 
joining  it,  and  becoming  nurses  at  the  hospital  of 
the  Hotel  Dieu.  But  after  a  very  short  experience 
of  the  nature  of  the  duties  involved  in  this  new 
vocation,  they  readily  followed  the  advice  of  their 
director  to  leave  the  nursing  to  more  competent 
hands,  and  to  content  themselves  with  serving 
the  cause  of  charity  by  contributing  pecuniarily 
to  the  support  of  the  institutions.  Another  sister- 
hood, '^  les  saurs  grises,''  founded  by  the  wealthy 
Madame  Legros,  at  the  suggestion  of  Vincent, 
was  occupied  wholly  in  teaching  the  poor  children 
of  his  schools. 

Frightful  disorder  reigned  at  that  time  amongst 
the  inferior  order  of  the  clergy.  Vincent  was 
desirous  of  reforming  so  deplorable  a  state  of 
things,  and  compelling  a  stricter  observance  of 
priestly  discipline.     In   this  he  met  with  violent 


UHOPITAL   DES   ENFANTS    TKOUVES       1 65 

opposition,  and  his  projects  for  the  benefit  of  the 
poor  were  criticized  and  condemned  by  those  cleri- 
cal reprobates.  He  himself  rather  discouraged 
the  founding  of  new  monasteries  and  convents, 
believing  there  were  more  opportunities  of  serving 
God  in  the  world  than  in  the  cloister.  An  opinion 
which  gained  him  many  enemies  in  the  Church. 

Paris  was  a  den  of  vice  and  infamy  at  the  time 
of  Vincent  de  Paul's  greatest  activity  and  zealous 
perseverance  in  founding  charitable  institutions. 
His  project  for  the  asylum  of  "  Lcs  cnfants  trouvcs  " 
met  with  some  remonstrance  and  condemnation,  as 
encouraging  crime.  But  the  horrid  sights  he  had 
witnessed  in  connection  with  the  exposure  of  poor 
infants  in  the  holes,  and  corners,  and  kennels,  and 
masses  of  filth,  where  dogs,  and  cats,  and  rats 
found  food,  had  moved  him  to  pity.  They  are  too 
revolting  in  their  details  to  be  reproduced  here. 
"  Tristes  spectacles  !''  says  a  French  writer,  ^^  diis 
aiix  plaisirs  dii  temps ^  But  they  were  due  in 
part  also  to  the  frequent  visitations  of  famine  and 
plague  ;  so  that  in  rescuing  those  wretched  chil- 
dren from  a  miserable  death,  Vincent  de  Paul 
saved  also  many  a  wretched  mother  from  a  crime 
which  misery  and  want  might  have  driven  her  to. 
Madame  Fremiot  de  Chantal  (the  grandmother  of 
Madame  de  Sevigne),  who  was  canonized  for  her 
great  piety,  was  one  among  the  many  who  aided 
him  in  establishing  this  and  other  charitable 
foundations. 


1 66  OLD   PARIS 

The  Duchesse  d'Aiguillon  devoted  the  greater 
part  of  her  income  to  the  same  objects,  as  well  as 
for  sending  missionaries  to  "  les  parties  sanvagcs 
de  la  France,''  ransoming  slaves,  and  setting  pris- 
oners free.  The  Commandeur  de  Sillery,  who  had 
been  French  ambassador  at  Rome,  was  so  much 
impressed  by  the  exhortations  and  the  example  of 
Vincent,  that  he  sold  his  fine  hotel,  its  splendid 
furniture,  rare  pictures  and  treasures  of  art,  in 
order  to  aid  him  in  carrying  out  his  various  projects 
for  the  relief  of  the  suffering  poor.  He  also  dis- 
missed his  entire  household,  and  after  providing 
for  a  few  small  pensions  to  ancient  servitors  of  his 
family,  and  strictly  limiting  his  own  expenditure 
to  a  sum  just  sufficient  for  the  necessaries  of  life, 
made  a  gift  of  the  whole  of  his  revenue  to  the 
Hotel  Dieu.  An  excess  of  charity  which  none 
other  of  the  noblesse  seems  to  have  imitated, 
though  a  similar  disposal  of  an  immense  fortune 
was  made  by  the  young  widow  of  the  President 
Goussault. 

There  was  a  tinge  of  romance  in  the  earlier 
history  of  Vincent  which  gave  him  an  additional 
interest  in  the  eyes  of  enthusiastic  ladies.  And 
he  could  tell  the  story  of  his  adventures  as  effect- 
ively as  he  could  plead  the  cause  of  suffering  hu- 
manity. He  was  indeed  well  fitted  for  his  vocation, 
and  for  the  age  in  which  he  lived.  While  on  a 
voyage  to  Marseilles  on  some  business  for  his 
father,  who  was  a  shepherd  farmer  and  the  owner 


STORY   OF    VINCENT'S  EARLIER   LIFE     1 67 

of  large  flocks,  he  was  taken  prisoner  by  a  Barbary 
pirate  and  sold  as  a  slave.  He  was  first  bought  by 
a  fisherman,  who  treated  him  well  as  long  as  he 
worked  hard.  Being  compelled  to  part  with  him, 
Vincent's  next  purchaser  was  an  astrologer.  This 
man  took  a  fancy  to  him,  behaved  kindly,  and  per- 
ceiving his  intelligence  ( he  had  but  recently  left 
the  university  of  Toulouse  to  be  ordained  priest  by 
the  Bishop  of  Tarbes)  initiated  him  in  the  myste- 
ries of  his  art.  In  the  course  of  a  year  or  two  the 
astrologer  died.  Vincent  was  again  led  to  the  slave- 
market,  and  was  then  bought  by  a  renegade  Greek 
in  the  service  of  the  Grand  Turk. 

He  now  first  found  opportunity  for  the  exercise 
of  that  great  moral  influence  he  afterwards  so  pow- 
erfully exerted,  over  women  especially.  The  Greek 
had  a  captive  Christian  wife  to  whom  he  was  greatly 
attached,  and  at  whose  entreaty  he  was  inclined  to 
give  Vincent  his  freedom.  But  before  an  opportu- 
nity for  doing  so  had  occurred,  they  together  so 
worked  on  his  feelings  as  to  induce  him  to  embrace 
Christianity,  and  to  seek  an  occasion  for  escaping 
with  his  wife  and  Vincent  to  France.  This  he 
succeeded  in  doing,  and  at  Avignon  the  Greek 
publicly  embraced  the  Christian  faith.  This  con- 
version, ascribed  to  the  persuasive  teaching  of 
Vincent,  gained  him  great  favour  at  Rome,  whither 
he  immediately  proceeded.  Paul  V.,  the  great 
patron  of  the  arts,  was  much  pleased  with  him,  as 
were  also  le  Pere  de  Berulle  and  the  Comte  de 
Joigny,  in  whose  family  he  became  preceptor. 


1 68  OLD   PARIS 

The  stories,  humorous  and  pathetic,  of  his  cap- 
tivity, he  is  said  to  have  often  related  for  the  amuse- 
ment or  edification  of  his  patrons  and  patronesses, 
and  to  have  told  them  charmingly,  touchingly  and 
persuasively.  There  was  nothing  studied  in  his 
expressions  or  his  manner ;  he  apparently  spoke 
from  real  emotion  and  from  his  heart.  "  Goodness, 
cheerfulness,  even  gaiety  seemed  to  breathe  in  and 
to  inspire  his  every  word  and  every  look.  It  was 
difficult  not  to  love  him."  Such,  we  are  told,  was 
Vincent  de  Paul.  And  although  it  is  acknowledged 
that  he  was  ^^  taut  soit pcit,  7'use,  and  used  adroitly 
line  douce  finesse  et  tme  gi'andc  Jiabilite''  in  obtain- 
ing funds  for  the  amelioration  of  the  condition  of 
the  then  very  helpless  and  little-cared-for  poor, 
sick,  aged  and  infirm  ;  yet  it  must  be  admitted 
that  he  did  much  good  in  his  generation,  and  that 
his  memory  deserves  to  be  held  in  honour  far  more 
than  that  of  many  who  have  been  joromoted  by  the 
Church  of  Rome  to  the  honour  of  saintship.  In 
the  next  century  his  statue  bore  the  inscription  — 
"  Au  Chretien  Philosophe." 


CHAPTER   XV. 

Debut  of  Mdlle.  de  Bourbon-Conde.  —  Her  Toilette  and  her 
Cilice. —  Her  Desire  to  take  the  Veil.  —  Her  Parents  refuse 
their  Consent.  —  Introduced  at  Rambouillet.  —  Armed 
against  Satan's  Assaults.  —  Anne  of  Austria.  —  The  Cilice 
admonishes  in  Vain.  —  Anne  de  Bourbon  converted.  —  The 
New  Star  and  her  Adorers.  —  The  Chateau  de  Chantilly.  — 
Its  Gardens  and  Grounds.  —  Amusements  of  the  Guests.  — 
The  Letter-Bag.  —  A  Letter  from  Voiture.  —  Tossed  in  a 
Counterpane.  —  Marriage  of  Anne  de  Bourbon. — "The 
Cook's  Daughter."  —  The  Marquise  de  Sable.  —  Beauty  of 
Madame  de  Longueville.  —  An  Attack  of  Small-pox. 

I  HERE  was  a  grand  ballet  de  la  reine 
at  the  Louvre  on  February  i8th,  1635, 
and  the  Gazette  de  France  names  Made- 
moiselle Anne  Genevieve  de  Bourbon-Cond6  as 
one  of  the  sixteen  young  ladies  who  danced  in  it. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  Monsieur  le  Prince,  and 
was  born,  as  before  mentioned,  in  the  Chateau  de 
Vincennes  in  16 19,  during  her  father's  imprison- 
ment there.  She  was  but  in  her  sixteenth  year 
when  first  introduced,  at  this  ball,  to  the  society 
of  the  court.  And  great  was  the  sensation  she 
occasioned.  The  cheek  of  many  a  bright  belle 
paled  with  envy,  the  heart  of  many  a  gay  cavalier 

fluttered    with  the    first  emotions  of  love,  as   the 

169 


I/O  OLD   PARIS 

Still  beautiful  Princesse  de  Conde  led  in  her 
trembling  daughter  and  presented  her  to  the 
queen.  For  one  so  young  and  fair  her  dress  was 
of  extraordinary  magnificence  (a  portrait  of  her 
thus  attired  still  exists).  It  was  of  white  brocade, 
with  puckerings  of  fine  lace  divided  by  strings  of 
pearls ;  the  sleeves  were  looped  with  large  dia- 
monds ;  the  same  brilliant  gems  glittered  on  her 
bosom,  sparkled  like  dew-drops  in  the  rays  of  the 
morning  sun  on  the  leaves  of  the  bouquet  she 
wore,  and  shone  in  the  masses  of  golden  hair  that 
fell  in  long  curls  on  her  fair  shoulders. 

Amongst  the  g^listening  diamonds  dropped  a 
glistening  tear  when  those  downcast  eyes  of 
heavenly  blue  were  raised  to  the  queen's.  Anne 
of  Austria  remarked  it  with  surprise,  the  princess 
with  a  glance  of  displeasure.  The  queen  spoke 
encouragingly  to  the  timid  girl ;  but  neither  the 
queen  nor  the  princess  was  aware  that  beneath 
her  splendid  toilette,  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon 
wore  a  small  corset  or  cuirassc  or  horse-hair  band- 
age, called  nn  cilice ;  a  minor  form  of  torture  to 
fret  and  irritate  the  skin  and  prevent  her  from 
taking  any  pleasure  at  this  ball,  to  which  she  had 
been  brought  entirely  against  her  will.  She  had 
received  what  was  called  her  education  at  the 
Carmelite  Convent  in  the  Rue  St.  Jacques.  There, 
naturally  very  impressionable,  her  mind  had  been 
worked  upon  by  the  exhortations  of  narrow-minded 
superstitious  nuns  and  much  reading  of  the  lives 


MADEMOISELLE   DE   BOURBON  \J\ 

of  mythical  saints,  until  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon, 
at  the  age  of  fifteen,  expressed  a  wish  to  take  the 
veil  as  a  Carmelite  nun. 

Le  Pere  Lejeune,  her  confessor,  encouraged 
this  fancy,  for  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon  would 
carry  with  her  to  the  cloister  a  very  large  fortune. 
But  Monsieur  le  Prince,  who  was  known  for  his 
avarice  and  love  of  w^ealth,  was  by  no  means 
inclined  to  give  his  only  daughter  and  her  large 
inheritance  to  the  Church.  He  refused  his  con- 
sent to  any  such  scheme,  and  desired  that  it 
might  never  again  be  even  mentioned.  She  was 
to  marry,  and  keep  up  the  prestige  and  social 
influence  of  the  family.  The  princess  was  blamed 
by  her  husband  for  not  having  discovered  and 
sooner  checked  this  foolish  whim.  She  herself 
was  extremely  devout,  —  frequently  retiring  to  the 
fashionable  Carmelite  Convent  for  a  few  days  of 
meditation  and  prayer.  She  and  the  prince  were 
not  often  agreed  in  opinion,  but  in  this  instance 
they  were  perfectly  in  harmony.  The  one  lovely 
daughter  who  had  inherited  the  beauty  of  her 
mother  — beauty  that  had  stirred  so  deeply  the 
pulses  of  a  grey-bearded  king  —  must  not  waste 
her  sweetness  on  the  desert  air  of  a  cloister  and 
fade  away  in  the  gloom  of  a  convent. 

But  it  was  not  so  easy  a  matter  to  turn  the 
young  lady  from  her  purpose.  Though  removed 
from  the  convent,  she  confided  all  her  sorrows  to 
the  nuns  on  those  days  when  she  still  was  allowed 


1/2  OLD  PARIS 

to  pass  an  hour  or  two  with  them.  Monsieur  le 
Prince  was  too  powerful  a  personage  directly  to 
oppose,  but  they  could  comfort  and  cheer  their 
devout  pupil  with  hopes  that,  if  her  firmness  re- 
mained unshaken,  she  yet  might  enter  their  doors 
to  pass  out  of  them  no  more.  And  what  were  all 
the  fetes  and  canviisels,  the  balls  and  shows  of 
the  sinful  world,  compared  with  the  shows  of  the 
Church .''  the  magnificent  vestments,  the  pictures, 
the  sculpture,  the  music,  the  incense,  the  gentle 
sisters,  the  convent's  angelic  peace.-'  —  peace  too 
often  born  of  despair  ! 

It  was  determined  by  her  parents  that,  although 
so  young,  she  should  begin  to  frequent  general 
society  before  her  debut  at  court,  and  accordingly 
Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon  was  introduced  at  Ram- 
bouillet.  But  whether  that  the  great  interest  then 
taken  there  in  the  proposed  rejection  of  many 
words  in  the  language  had  so  fully  engrossed  the 
attention  of  the  company  that  they  could  give  heed 
to  no  other  objects,  or  that  the  new  visitor  cared 
not  whether  proiicsses  gave  place  to  grandes  actions 
or  pensers  to  pensecs  —  (these  words  being  then 
under  discussion  by  the  dictionary  people )  —  it  is 
certain  that  no  favourable  impression  was  either 
made  or  received  by  this  pouting  young  damsel 
who  was  resolved  to  be  a  nun.  The  same  want  of 
success  attended  her  introduction  at  the  Hotel  of 
the  Duchesse  de  Liancourt,  who  had  also  begun 
to  receive  a  select  circle  of  the  bea^i  nionde  and 


ARMED   AGAIiVST  SATAA''S  ASSAULTS     1/3 

gens  de  lettrcs.  The  princess,  disappointed  and 
grieved,  could  not  refrain  from  bitterly  reproaching 
her  daughter.  She  is  said  to  have  replied  :  "  Voiis 
avez,  Madame,  des  graces  si  toiicJiantes  que  comnie 
je  ne  vais  qiiavec  vo2cs,  et  ne  parais  qii  aprh  vous, 
071  ne  men  troiive  points  An  answer  worthy  of 
Rambouillet,  and  which  showed  that  mademoiselle 
had  already  some  insight  into  character  —  for 
Madame  la  Princesse  could  never  forget  that  her 
beauty  had  created  a  sensation,  and  that  she  was 
still  considered  belle,  and  really  vj2iSjeime  encore. 

At  length  the  prince  himself  announced  to  his 
daughter  that  she  would  be  required  in  three  days 
from  that  time  to  appear  at  a  ball  to  be  given  by 
the  queen  at  the  Louvre,  and  that  she  would  have 
to  take  her  part  in  the  ballet  de  la  reine.  Poor 
mademoiselle !  To  most  girls  this  would  have 
been  a  delightful  piece  of  news,  to  her  it  was  a 
sorrowful  one.  Entreaties  to  be  excused  were  of 
no  avail.  Any  appearance  of  intention  to  resist 
the  parental  will  would  be  met,  she  was  assured, 
by  the  exercise  of  parental  authority  to  enforce 
it.  Great  was  the  consternation,  the  affliction, 
the  embarrassment  of  the  Carmelites.  They  could 
not  advise  her  to  obey  —  they  dared  not  counsel 
her  to  disobey.  After  long  musing  a  brilliant 
thought,  as  if  by  inspiration,  came  suddenly  into 
the  mind  of  the  abbess.  It  was  to  arm  the  victim 
against  the  assaults  of  Satan  with  a  shield,  in  the 
shape  of  a  horse-hair  cnirasse.     The  nuns  warmly 


174  OLD  PARIS 

approved,  and  the  vestment  was  immediately  pro- 
vided and  stealthily  placed  upon  her.  At  the  same 
time  they  warned  her  to  be  constantly  on  her  guard 
and  unfailing  in  her  attention  to  the  admonitory 
scratchings  of  the  cilice.  Her  faith  in  it,  like  theirs, 
was  unbounded ;  her  self-confidence  not  less.  Forth 
then  she  went,  arrayed  in  gold  and  gems  that  added 
no  charm  to  her  beauty,  to  prove,  as  she  felt,  how 
powerless  were  all  the  vain  pleasures  of  the  world 
to  lure  her  from  the  path  of  piety  she  had  chosen. 
The  plumed,  diamond-decked  and  lace-bedizened 
courtiers  had  assembled  in  full  force  that  evening. 
The  ladies  —  a  glittering  throng,  frizzed  and 
rouged  and  fluttering  their  jewelled  Moorish  fans 
— ■  attended  as  numerously.  Hundreds  of  wax- 
lights  illumined  the  vast  salon,  at  the  farther  end 
of  which,  in  a  large  crimson  velvet  and  gold-fringed 
arm-chair,  sat  Anne  of  Austria,  Louis's  neglected 
wife.  She  was  splendidly  dressed  and  was  a  royal- 
looking  woman,  though  at  that  time  far  less  beau- 
tiful than  some  writers  have  described  her  ;  for  she 
had  grown  large  and  lazy,  and  was  far  too  highly 
rouged.  But  her  coquettish  agaccrie  and  grace 
in  the  use  of  her  fan  were  peculiarly  Spanish,  and 
imparted  a  degree  of  animation  to  her  rather  indo- 
lent air.  She  was  always  gracious  in  manner,  and 
on  this  occasion  was  listening  with  smiling  satis- 
faction to  the  complimentary  speeches  of  the  Due 
de  Beaufort,  Henry  IV. 's  grandson,  who  was  ever 
assiduous  in  paying  his  court  to  her. 


THE    CILICE   ADMONISHES  IN    VAIN      1 75 

But  why,  as  with  downcast  eyes  she  passed 
through  this  brilHant  throng,  did  the  youthful 
Anne  de  Bourbon  shed  tears  ?  Did  she  feel  her 
weakness  already?  or  was  it  that  the  admonitory 
cilice  was  tearing  and  fretting  her  delicate  skin  ? 
Not  even  Victor  Cousin,  who,  in  his  "  Femmes 
illustres  "  has  so  delighted  to  speculate  on  the  feel- 
ings and  to  expatiate  on  the  beauty  of  this  belle  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  has  told  us  more  than 
simply  that  she  shed  tears.  But  her  bright  eyes, 
"those  eyes  of  Heaven's  deepest  blue,"  were  soon 
dried.  "  What  should  she  fear  .-'  "  Her  place  in 
the  dance  is  assigned  her,  a  gay  cavalier  presses 
her  hand  as  he  conducts  her  to  it,  and  whispers 
compliments  that  are  new  to  the  ear  of  this  emo- 
tional young  girl.  Her  colour  is  heightened,  her 
eyes  sparkle,  and  her  rosy  mouth  smiles.  In  vain 
the  cilice  scratches,  she  heeds  it  not,  for  she  is 
actually  enjoying  the  dance  she  had  so  much 
dreaded.  And  so  the  evening  passes  away.  All 
eyes  have  been  upon  the  youthful  belle  of  the  ball, 
and  her  cheek  has  glowed  with  proud  delight  in 
the  consciousness  of  the  admiration  her  beauty 
excited. 

Three  in  the  morning !  a  horribly  dissipated 
hour  to  be  abroad  in  old  Paris.  Yet  the  two  or 
more  loud-sounding  clocks  of  the  city  had  struck 
three  full  half  an  hour  before  the  calkhc  of  Madame 
la  Princesse  was  on  its  way  back  to  the  Hotel  de 
Conde.     Mademoiselle  sat  between  her  parents,  a 


1/6  OLD  PARIS 

hand  clasped  by  each.  But  she  was  silent,  and 
a  little  agitated  by  emotions  hitherto  unknown  to 
her;  emotions  of  delight,  which  the  sharp  admoni- 
tions of  the  cilice  proved  powerless  to  subdue. 
Henceforth,  she  is  a  changed  person  ! 

Who  now  so  gay  and  joyous  as  the  lately 
sad  and  pining  Anne  de  Bourbon  ?  A  kindly 
feeling  towards  her  mourning  Carmelite  friends 
she  still  retains,  but  her  affections  are  trans- 
ferred from  the  cloister  to  the  world.  Her 
desire  is  now  to  shine  in  that  world,  and  to 
conquer.  To  effect  so  sudden  and  thorough  a 
conversion,  this  ballet  de  la  rcine  must  have  been 
a  very  brilliant  affair.  Contemporary  writers, 
with  but  few  exceptions,  speak  of  them  generally 
as  mere  scenes  of  coarse  gaiety.  Yet  as  spec- 
tacles only  —  from  the  splendour  of  the  costumes, 
particularly  those  of  the  grands  seigjiciirs  who 
vied  with  each  other  in  the  magnificence  of  their 
dresses  —  they  must  have  been  very  imposing. 

Of  this  particular  ballet,  in  which  all  the 
beauties  of  the  court  are  said  to  have  figured, 
it  was  observed  with  more  gallantry  than  rev- 
erence, that  on  leaving  the  Louvre  "  c/iactm 
remportait  de  ce  lieti  plein  de  merveilles  la  fnenie 
idie  qjie  celle  de  Jacob,  leqiiel  jtayant  vu  toiite 
la  unit  qjie  des  ajiges,  criit  que  citait  le  lien  oil 
le  del joignait  avec  la  terre." 

The  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  next  welcomed 
the  new  star,  wondering   behind    what    cloud    it 


THE    CHATEAU  DE    CHANTILLY  I'J'J 

had  concealed  itself  on  its  first  appearance 
there.  The  receptions  at  the  Hotel  de  Conde, 
though  the  Prince  was  no  general  favourite, 
drew  from  the  famous  Rambouillet  many  of  its 
least  literary  Jiabitnes.  But  whether  at  their 
own  Hotel,  the  Petit  Luxembourg,  the  Palais 
Cardinal,  the  Hotels  of  the  Place  Royal,  or  at 
the  Louvre,  a  crowd  of  adorers  followed  in  the 
train  of  Mademoiselle  Anne  de  Bourbon.  Such 
continual  worship  and  ceaseless  incense  of  flat- 
tery might  well  have  turned  an  older  and  wiser 
head,  for  she  was  little  more  than  a  child  in 
years,  —  not  yet  sixteen,  though  taller,  and  in 
figure  more  fully  developed,  than  girls  of  her 
age  usually  are. 

When  the  spring  was  more  advanced,  the 
princess  and  her  daughter  accompanied  the 
court  to  Fontainebleau,  whence  they  proceeded 
to  Chantilly,  where  they  assembled  a  little 
court  of  their  own.  It  was  as  necessary  as  it 
was  customary  then  to  secure  a  large  party  to 
amuse  and  be  amused  at  these  lovely  cJidteaux 
de  province  of  the  grands  seigneurs.  There  the 
ladies  regulated  life  after  the  manner  of  Astree, 
and  the  pastorals  of  Calprenede  and  Gomber- 
ville.  For  until  the  deeds  of  arms  of  the  great 
Conde  (as  yet  but  a  boy  of  fourteen)  inspired 
the  pen  of  Mademoiselle  de  Scudery,  and  "  Le 
Grand  Cyrus "  appeared,  Phyllis  and  Strephon 
and    their   Jionnete   amitie   lost    nothing   of    their 


1/8  OLD   PARIS 

prestige.  The  wide  domain  of  Chantilly  had 
long  been  the  property  of  the  Montmorenci 
family,  when  it  passed  into  the  possession  of 
the  Condes  after  the  execution  for  treason  of 
the  last  unfortunate  duke;  and  thus  Chantilly, 
with  its  chateau  dating  anterior  to  the  Renais- 
sance, became  a  standing  souvenir  of  the  two 
great  military  families  of  ancient  France,  —  that 
of  the  illustrious  Anne  de  Montmorenci,  con- 
stable of  the  kingdom,  under  Francis  I.,  and  of 
Louis  de  Bourbon,  Prince  de  Conde.* 

Chantilly  was  the  favourite  residence  of 
Madame  la  Princess,  and  it  was  a  charming 
sejoiir  in  the  fine  part  of  the  year.  If  its 
gardens  were  rather  staid  and  formal,  as  was 
the  style  of  the  period,  there  was  much  that 
was  picturesque  in  the  grounds,  and  the  forest 
in  summer  and  autumn  was  a  scene  of  wild 
beauty.  Vincent  Voiture  was  greatly  in  re- 
quest at  several  of  these  princely  cJidteaux,  so 
also  was  Sarrazin,  and  later  on  Mathieu  Mon- 
treuil ;  agreeable  writers  of  sonnets  and  of 
pretty  conceits  in  verse,  and  possessing  some 
reputation  for  lively  wit.  A  bel  esprit  must  have 
been  a  desirable  addition  to  those  rather  insipid 
parties    of    twenty   or    thirty   ladies    and    gentle- 

*  In  Perelle's  "  Grands  Chateaux  de  France"  there  are  views 
of  the  chateau,  grounds,  and  gardens,  as  they  existed  in  the 
latter  years  of  the  grand  Conde,  who  took  great  pride  in  im- 
proving and  embellishing  them. 


AMUSEMENTS   OF   THE   GUESTS  1 79 

men  playing  at  shepherds  and  shepherdesses. 
Here  and  there  a  fool  still  formed  one  of  the 
retainers  of  an  old  baronial  establishment.  But 
fools  had  gone  out  of  fashion  and  favour  since 
Voiture  had  introduced  practical  joking  and  buf- 
foonery as  the  qualifications  of  a  bel  esprit. 

Those  minor  poets  of  the  hour  wrote  the 
greater  part  of  the  amatory  verses  in  which  the 
shepherds  were  expected  to  make  love  to  their 
shepherdesses.  For  though  rhyming  was  the 
rage,  all  had  not  the  faculty  of  telling  in 
rhymes  of  the  amorous  flame  that  was  sup- 
posed to  be  consuming  them.  The  mornings 
were  spent  in  this  literary  love-making.  In  the 
afternoon,  while  the  ladies  trifled  over  their 
embroidery-frames,  the  most  ungallant  of  the 
gentlemen  lounged  off  by  themselves.  Those 
that  remained  read  for  the  general  amusement 
some  part  of  the  long  spun-out  romances  of  the 
day.  In  the  summer  evenings  the  whole  party 
set  out  together  for  a  promenade  in  the  grounds, 
but  generally  returned  in  straggling  couples ;  it 
was  so  easy  for  those  who  wished  it  to  wander 
from  the  right  path  in  those  mazy  thickets  and 
woods.  When  the  party  reassembled,  there 
were  sports,  and  games,  and  music  (singing  with 
lute  accompaniment),  in  the  apartment  of  Madame 
la  Princesse,  and  if  Monsieur  le  Prince  happened 
to  be  at  the  cJidtcaii,  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
gambling  in  his. 


l80  OLD   PARIS 

On  the  whole  there  was  no  lack  of  employment 
and  pastime,  and  no  doubt  life  was  a  pleasant 
thing  at  one's  chateau  in  these  good  old  times,  far 
away  from  the  plague  and  the  famine,  the  dirt 
and  the  squalor  of  Paris.  Imagine  all  those 
grandees  loitering  round  the  fish-ponds  and  feed- 
ing the  fishes  —  what  a  pretty  sight!  or  assembled 
on  the  broad  terrace  refreshing  themselves  with 
champagne  (for  champagne  was  then  no  less 
esteemed  by  the  ladies  than  it  is  now.  And  more 
deservedly  so,  as  it  was  then  pure  viu  de  cham- 
pagne, not  a  fizzing  concoction  of  heaven  knows 
what,  prepared  for  the  English  market).  Or 
behold  them,  in  fancy,  sauntering  over  that  broad 
sweep  of  greensward,  while  others  are  reading 
D'Urfe  in  the  balconies,  and  some  three  or  four 
of  those  charming  seigneurs  in  velvet  and  satin 
are  stretched  on  the  grass,  their  Spanish  hats 
and  feathers,  and  swords  lying  beside  them.  One 
cavalier  jumps  up,  a  bright  belle  takes  his  arm, 
and  they  stroll  off  together  for  a  confidential  con- 
versation through  the  shady  allees  of  the  park. 

Then  the  letter-bag  arrives,  and  causes  no  small 
commotion ;  it  comes  at  all  hours,  often  when 
least  expected,  but  by  no  means  every  day.  How 
welcome  those  news-letters  are,  not  only  to  the 
fortunate  recipient,  but  to  those  who  hear  them 
read.  They  contain  the  gossip  of  the  salons  of 
Paris,  the  gallantries  and  the  intrigues  of  the  court. 
There  is  not  much  to  tell  of   the  doings  of  the 


A    LETTER   FROM    VOITURE  l8l 

king ;  but  of  the  insolent  airs  and  the  extravagant 
dress  of  his  present  favourite,  Cinq  Mars,  and  of 
the  toleration  this  meets  with  from  the  cardinal, 
many  hints,  but  very  guarded  hints,  are  given. 
There  is  a  letter  also  from  Voiture,  it  is  addressed 
to  Mademoiselle  Anne  de  Bourbon,  and  as  it  tells 
of  the  tossing  in  a  counterpane  at  Rambouillet, 
where  one  would  have  supposed  nothing  so  undig- 
nified could  ever  have  taken  place,  it  may  be  as 
well  to  let  this  famous  bel  esprit  tell  the  story 
himself,  observing  only  that  the  company  at  Ram- 
bouillet had  been  amusing  themselves  by  playing  at 
"forfeits."  Voiture  had  been  desired  to  say  or  do 
something  that,  within  a  certain  number  of  minutes, 
should  make  them  laugh.  He  had  undertaken  to 
do  so,  and  failed.  This  failure  was  deemed  a 
punishable  offence,  and  Madame  de  Rambouillet, 
at  the  request  of  Julie  and  Angelique  Paulet  (who 
could  have  believed  it  T),  decreed  that  poor  Voiture 
should  be  tossed  in  a  counterpane  as  many  times 
as  he  had  been  allowed  minutes  to  accomplish  the 
feat  he  had  failed  in. 

He  writes  : 

"  Elles  en  avoient  remis  I'execution  au  retour 
de  Madame  la  Princesse  et  de  vous.  Mais  elles 
s'aviserent  depuis  qu'il  ne  fallait  pas  remettre 
des  supplices  a  une  saison  qui  devoit  etre  toute 
destinee  a  la  joie.  J'eus  beau  crier  et  me  de- 
fendre :  la  convert ure  fut  apportee,  et  quatre  des 


1 82  OLD    PARIS 

plus  forts  hommes  du  monde  furent  choisis  pour 
cela.  Ce  que  je  vous  puis  dire,  Mademoiselle, 
c'est  que  jamais  personne  ne  fut  si  haut  que  moi, 
et  que  je  ne  croyois  pas  que  la  fortune  me  dut 
jamais  tant  elever.  Je  vis  les  montagnes  abais- 
sees  au  dessous  de  moi ;  je  vis  les  vents  et  les 
nuees  cheminer  dessous  mes  pieds  ;  je  decouvris 
des  pays  que  je  n'avais  jamais  vu  et  des  mers  que 
je  n'avoit  point  imaginees.  Mais  je  vous  assure, 
Mademoiselle,  qu'on  ne  voit  tout  cela  qu'avec 
inquietude  lorsque  Ton  est  en  I'air  et  que  Ton  est 
assure  d'aller  retomber." 

And  thus  Voiture  continues,  for  a  page  or  two, 
to  recount  what  he  pretended  to  have  seen  in  the 
clouds,  as  he  rose  and  fell  at  each  toss  of  the 
counterpane.  He  delighted  in  writing  letters 
filled  with  absurdities  and  affectations  to  the 
Rambouillet  circle ;  and  his  admirers  considered 
them  ample  atonement  for  the  freedoms  and  liber- 
ties he  had  constantly  to  be  reminded  of,  and  often 
to  submit  to  some  ridiculous  punishment  for. 
However,  he  had  his  reward  in  the  pensions  and 
sinecures  his  friends  were  ever  on  the  alert  to 
secure  for  him. 

But  to  return  to  Mademoiselle  de  Bourbon : 
when  she  again  appeared  in  the  ''societe  polie" 
of  Paris  it  was  as  Duchesse  de  Longueville. 
On  completing  her  sixteenth  year  her  marriage 
had  almost  immediately  taken  place.  The  bride- 
groom was  a  widower  of  forty,   with  a  daughter 


MARRIAGE    OF  ANNE   DE  BOURBON       1 83 

but  two  years  younger  than  his  bride.  It  was, 
of  course,  a  mere  manage  de  cojivcjia?ice.  But 
there  were  advantages  in  it  that  outweighed  the 
consideration  —  no  light  one  with  the  haughty 
princess — that  Henri,  Due  de  Longueville,  was 
scarcely  of  equal  rank  with  the  family  of  Bourbon- 
Conde.  His  escutcheon  bore  a  bar  sinister ;  he 
was  a  descendant  of  the  famous  ^^jeime  et  brave 
Dunois,"  an  illegitimate  scion  of  the  House  of 
Orleans,  and  the  hero  of  the  well-known  French 
national  song,  the  music  of  which  is  attributed  to 
Queen  Hortense,  the  mother  of  Napoleon  HI. 

La  grande  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier,  re- 
ferring in  her  "Memoirs"  to  the  time  when 
Mademoiselle  Anne  de  Bourbon  was  introduced 
into  society  —  she  herself  being  then  little  more 
than  nine  years  of  age  —  says  she  used  to  go 
twice  a  week  to  the  reunions  of  the  Comtesse 
de  Soissons  at  the  Hotel  de  Brissac,  where 
there  were  music  and  dancing,  and  often  short 
plays  were  performed ;  but  what  most  amused 
her  and  her  companion,  Mademoiselle  de  Longue- 
ville (the  duke's  daughter),  was  to  go  there 
ridiculously  dressed  —  *^  anssi  ridiculement  qii  on 
le  ponvait  etre,"  and  to  laugh  at  and  make 
grimaces  at  the  company,  in  spite  of  the  in- 
cessant reprimands  of  their  governess.  To  en- 
sure better  behaviour,  it  appears  to  have  been 
necessary  to  separate  these  two  horrid  girls ; 
both   of    whom   professed   a  great   dislike  to   the 


184  OLD  PARIS 

Princess  de  Cond6,  as  well  as  to  her  daughter, 
then  the  destined  stepmother  of  Mademoiselle 
de  Longueville. 

Between  stepmother  and  stepdaughter,  so  nearly 
of  the  same  age,  no  mutual  affection  ever 
sprang  up ;  while  as  to  the  duke,  though  he  had 
married  the  most  celebrated  beauty  of  her  day, 
he  continued  to  be  one  of  the  train  of  ardent 
worshippers  who  followed  the  triumphal  car 
of  the  handsomest  and  most  ignorant  woman 
in  France,  —  Madame  de  Rohan  Montbazon.  She 
was  the  granddaughter  of  Varenne,  niaitre 
d' hotel  to  Henri  IV.  The  grandes  dames,  there- 
fore, indignant  at  the  number  and  rank  of  the 
slaves  who  wore  her  chains,  were  accustomed  to 
speak  contemptuously  of  her  as  "  the  cook's 
daughter."  However,  she  had  married  into  a 
branch  of  the  great  Rohan  family,  who  claimed 
kindred  with  royalty,  and  one  of  whose  members 
assumed  the  arrogant  device  of 

"  Roi,  je  ne  puis, 
Due,  je  ne  daigne, 
Rohan  je  suis." 

The  indifference  of  the  duke  does  not  appear 
to  have  affected  the  young  duchess  or  to  have 
prevented  her  from  fully  enjoying  the  pleasures 
of  the  capital.  And  as  by  the  laws  of  polite 
society  every  gentleman  was  bound  either  to  be, 
or  to  feign  to  be,  in  love,  and  to  sigh,  "<;'«  amant 
inoffcnsify'  at  the  feet  of  a  mistress,  and   every 


THE   MARQUISE   DE   SABLE  185 

lady  to  have  her  "galaiit  et  Jionnete  homme,"  la 
belle  duchesse  had  but  to  select  from  among 
her  numerous  slaves  the  one  she  decreed  worthy 
of  the  honour  of  attending  upon  her.  She  did 
not  affect  wit ;  she  wrote  no  sonnets,  but  she 
conversed  well,  —  fluently,  gracefully,  and  easily, 
and  what  was  rarer  still,  naturally;  a  talent 
highly  appreciated  and  a  good  deal  envied  at 
Rambouillet.  It  was  there  she  formed  that 
life-long  friendship  with  the  Marquise  de  Sable, 
who  though  scarcely  to  be  classed  amongst  the 
writers  of  the  period,  originated  the  fashion 
of  writing  maximes  et  peiisees.  There,  too, 
she  became  acquainted  with  the  brother  and 
sister  De  Scudery,  both  so  unswervingly  devoted 
to  her. 

But  by  some  writers  the  Duchesse  de  Longue- 
ville  has  been  represented  as  admiring,  above  all 
things,  her  own  beauty,  and  as  receiving  the 
highest  delight  she  was  capable  of  from  the 
flatteries  and  homage  that  beauty  procured  her. 
She  was  a  very  lovely  blonde ;  a  type  of  beauty 
that  would  seem  to  have  been  more  frequent 
in  those  days  both  in  Spain  and  France  than 
at  present.  For  those  exceptionally  lovely 
women,  whose  charms  were  so  rapturously  sung, 
were  all  endowed  by  the  poet  and  the  lover 
with  light  chestnut  or  golden  hair;  eyes  blue 
as  the  southern  skies,  forms  graceful  as  the 
bounding  sylph,  yet   with   a   modicum   of  embon- 


1 86  OLD   PARIS 

point.  The  imagination  of  a  lover  will  doubtless 
often  endow  his  mistress  with  charms  which 
ordinary  eyes  see  not ;  but  as  regards  Madame 
de  Longueville,  one  is  bound  to  believe  from 
concurrent  testimony  that  she  was  a  truly  beau- 
tiful woman. 

But  that  scourge  of  beauty,  small-pox,  though 
lying  dormant  for  a  time,  was  ever  lurking  in 
the  narrow,  pestiferous  streets  of  old  Paris. 
Breaking  forth  suddenly,  it  swept  away  its  vic- 
tims by  hundreds  and  thousands,  and  snatched 
from  the  cheek  of  beauty  every  trace  of  its 
comeliness,  leaving  only  scars  and  hideousness 
behind.  How  it  was  dreaded,  both  by  the  high- 
born and  the  lowly !  In  the  year  following  her 
marriage,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  pleasures  and 
gaieties  she  now  so  greatly  delighted  in,  the  young 
and  lovely  Duchesse  de  Longueville  was  smitten 
by  this  terrible  disease. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

War  with  Spain.  —  Louis's  Love  of  the  Camp.  —  Birth  of  the 
Dauphin.  —  A  second  Enfant  de  France.  —  Le  Grand 
Conde. —  Marries  Richelieu's  Niece.  —  Morbid  Fancies  of 
Louis  XIII.  —  Death  of  Marie  de  Medicis. —  Sympathy  of 
the  People. — Richelieu's  failing  Health.  —  Cinq  Mars. — 
Provokes  the  King's  Anger.  —  His  picturesque  Appear- 
ance.—  Un  mauvais  quart  d'heure.  —  Death  of  the  great 
Cardinal.  —  If  a  great  Minister,  but  a  poor  Poet. 

)OUIS  XIII.  was  at  war  with  Spain, 
and  chiefly  because  it  was  the  will 
of  his  minister,  who  found  in  war  the 
gratification  of  his  own  ambition,  and  a  means 
of  amusing  and  controlling  the  king.  Louis's 
desire  to  govern  for  himself  often  inclined  him 
to  break  the  bonds  in  which  the  cardinal  held 
him,  and  to  take  the  reins  of  power  into  his  own 
weak  hands.  But  it  was  beyond  his  ability  to 
set  himself  free,  and,  considering  his  character, 
hardly  desirable  that  he  should  do  so.  When, 
however,  he  became  weary  of  his  favourites,  and 
his  yoke  lay  heavy  upon  him,  the  cardinal  de- 
vised a  military  promenade,  as  an  effectual 
method  of  easing  it.  Louis  XIII.  was  not  with- 
out personal  bravery;  he  was  a  bold  huntsman 
and   a  fearless   rider.      He   liked   the   din   of   the 

187 


1 88  OLD  PARIS 

camp,  as  his  father  had  done,  though  he  was 
there  amongst  the  cardinal's  creatures,  and  not, 
as  was  Henry  IV^  amongst  comrades  and  friends. 

Henry  was  a  rough  and  hardy  soldier,  with  a 
lively  temper  and  a  winning  tongue;  poor  Louis 
was  a  gloomy  recluse  and  a  stammerer.  But  he 
liked  to  ride  at  the  head  of  his  troops,  and  to  show 
himself  to  his  army.  It  gave  him  an  advantage, 
he  thought,  over  Philip  IV.  of  Spain,  who  had 
never  been  seen  by  his  soldiers.  Except  by  name, 
they  knew  him  not  at  all,  while  the  French  troops 
were  frequently  favoured  with  the  inspiring  sight 
of  their  king,  as  he  passed  them  in  review  if  he 
never  led  them  to  battle.  The  result  of  all  this 
warfare,  if  damaging  to  Austria  and  Spain,  was 
even  more  disastrous  to  France,  —  exhausting  the 
finances  and  depopulating  the  country. 

To  talk  over  the  changes  and  chances  of  the 
war,  and  the  plots  and  intrigues,  which  Louis 
could  never  divest  himself  of  the  idea  that  Anne 
of  Austria  "took  a  deep  interest,  if  not  a  chief 
part  in,  he  often,  by  means  of  the  passe-partout 
of  his  royal  prerogative,  contrived,  in  spite  of  the 
cardinal's  spies  and  the  vigilance  of  Vincent  de 
Paul,  to  spend  an  hour  or  so  at  the  grating  with 
Mdlle.  de  La  Fayette.  Into  her  sympathizing  ear 
he  poured  the  tale  of  his  military  and  political 
hopes  and  fears,  and  his  complaints  and  suspicions 
of  his  wife.  She  consoled,  comforted,  and  advised, 
and  brought  him  for  a  time  to  think  less  unkindly 


Xouls  P1I1I. 


BIRTH  OF   THE   DAUPHIN  1 89 

of  the  queen ;  and  but  for  her  apathy,  Louis 
might  have  been  constrained  to  acknowledge  that 
Anne  had  been  unfairly  and  harshly  treated. 
When,  however,  to  the  joy  of  the  nation  (who, 
owing  to  the  weak  health  of  the  king,  had  begun 
to  fear  that  Gaston  might  shortly  reign  over  them, 
and  expected  no  advantage  from  the  change),  a 
son  was  born  to  Louis,  he  refused  to  take  the 
infant  in  his  arms,  and,  as  was  customary,  kiss 
him.  And  Anne  was  far  more  deeply  pained  by 
this  affront  than  by  all  his  neglect  and  indiffer- 
ence. 

An  astrologer  was  in  waiting  in  the  adjoining 
room  for  the  announcement  of  the  birth,  in  order 
immediately  to  cast  the  child's  nativity.  His  pre- 
diction of  the  brilliant  destiny  of  the  future  Louis 
XIV.  probably  helped  to  soothe  the  wounded  feel- 
ings of  the  mother,  who  was  as  firm  a  believer  in  the 
arts  of  the  astrologer,  and  his  power  to  see  into 
futurity,  as  she  was  in  the  efficacy  of  the  super- 
stitious practices  of  her  church  to  win  the  favour 
of  Heaven.  The  people  were  not  backward  in 
celebrating  the  birth  of  the  dauphin;  and  there 
was  a  magnificent  state  christening,  at  which 
Mazarin  —  who  was  then  nuncio  extraordinary  in 
France,  and  high  in  the  favour  of  Richelieu — held 
the  child  for  Pope  Urban  VHI.  As  the  little 
dauphin  lived  and  throve,  and  a  second  son  — 
Philippe,  Monsieur  —  was  born  within  the  next 
two  years,  Gaston  could  no  longer  look  to  succeed  to 


IQO  OLD  PARIS 

the  throne.  The  consideration  he  had  hitherto  been 
held  in  by  the  many  plotters  and  intriguers  against 
the  cardinal  minister  considerably  declined.  But 
there  was  still  a  chance  of  the  regency,  as  it  was 
doubtful  whether  Louis's  experience  of  the  incom- 
petency of  his  mother  to  govern  the  kingdom,  and 
the  almost  contemptuous  opinion  he  had  of  the 
character  and  abilities  of  the  queen,  would  not 
outweigh  his  hatred  of  his  brother,  and  lead  him, 
in  case  of  a  minority,  to  appoint  him  regent. 

Gaston,  from  restlessness  of  disposition  and 
discontent  with  the  cardinal,  who  refused  him  the 
government  of  certain  provinces  he  desired,  was 
ever  ready  to  favour  any  plot  or  conspiracy  against 
the  court  and  the  minister,  and  to  invite  others  to 
revolt.  But  when  their  schemes  were  discovered 
or  frustrated,  he  scrupled  not  to  sacrifice  his  par- 
tizans  and  friends  in  order  to  make  his  own  peace. 
He  possessed  personal  courage,  but  his  seditious 
enterprises  were  as  readily  abandoned  as  under- 
taken, owing  to  instability  of  purpose ;  while  those 
who  had  supported  them  were  as  promptly 
deserted,  from  his  utter  want  of  honour  and  moral 
principle.  He  was  the  cause  of  the  execution  of 
the  brave  and  intrepid  Montmorenci,  and  of  that 
of  Cinq  Mars  and  De  Thou. 

The  fortune  of  war  had  been  long  unfavourable 
to  France,  when,  at  about  this  time,  a  young  gen- 
eral of  but  twenty  years  of  age  turned  the  tide  in 
its  favour.     The  Spaniards  laughed  at  the  idea  of 


THE    GRAND    CONDE  I9I 

a  beardless  boy  commanding  an  army  that  was  to 
face  the  veteran  troops  of  Spain,  led  by  a  distin- 
guished and  experienced  general.  The  boy  com- 
mander was  the  young  Due  d'Enghien,  better 
known  as  the  Grand  Conde.  "  The  art  of  war," 
as  a  French  writer  has  remarked,  "  seemed  to  be 
in  him  a  natural  instinct."  Other  great  captains 
have  learned  it  by  degrees,  and  generally  have 
acquired  renown  only  after  experience  in  the  bat- 
tle-field; but  the  Grand  Conde  was  born  a  gen- 
eral, and  he  was  a  general  that  never  was  beaten. 
Richelieu  had  arranged  a  marriage  between  the 
duke  and  his  niece.  Mademoiselle  de  Maille  de 
Breze,  notwithstanding  the  objections  raised  by 
Madame  la  Princesse  against  a  union  with  the 
family  of  the  man  who  had  sent  her  brother  to 
the  scaffold.  The  prince,  who  saw  in  it  the  pros- 
pect of  further  enriching  his  family,  had  overruled 
her  objections.  The  bridegroom  himself  was  in- 
different, for  the  bride  was  not  beautiful,  and  she, 
having  no  voice  in  the  matter,  became,  willingly  or 
unwillingly,  Duchesse  d'Enghien. 

The  education  of  the  young  duchess  —  though 
she  was  the  daughter  of  a  distinguished  man  of 
ancient  and  noble  family,  the  Marechal  de  Maille 
de  Breze,  greatly  enriched,  too,  since  Richelieu 
had  governed  —  had  been  so  entirely  neglected, 
that  she  could  neither  read  nor  write.  That  she 
might  receive  some  rudimentary  instruction,  the 
duke  placed  her  in  the  Carmelite  convent  of  St. 


192  OLD   PARIS 

Denis,  during  his  absence  on  a  journey  to  Rous- 
sillon,  with  the  king.  Before  setting  out  on  this 
journey,  the  king,  who  was  always  tormented  by 
evil  suspicions,  broke  a  piece  of  money  with  M.  de 
Martigny,  almost  the  only  member  of  his  house- 
hold in  whom  he  had  confidence,  and  enjoined  him 
to  keep  a  careful  and  constant  guard  over  the  two 
young  princes.  On  no  account  was  he  to  allow 
them  to  be  removed,  or  to  be  placed  under 
another's  supervision,  even  if  he  should  receive  an 
order  to  do  so  under  his,  the  king's,  own  hand.  If 
evil  should  seem  to  threaten  them,  M.  de  Martigny 
was  to  apprize  him  of  it  by  sending  the  half  piece 
of  money  left  with  him.  The  king,  however,  re- 
turned to  find  that  his  children  were  well,  and  had 
been  in  no  way  molested.  What  he  suspected,  or 
whom  he  mistrusted,  was  never  known;  but  he 
was  a  prey  to  these  morbid  fancies. 

There  is  no  greater  blot  on  the  memory  of 
Louis  XIII.  than  his  treatment  of  his  mother. 
She  had  not  only  vainly  solicited  permission  to 
return  to  France,  but  had  been  allowed  for  eleven 
years  to  live  in  great  indigence,  dependent,  in  a 
foreign  country,  on  the  sympathy  and  aid  of 
strangers.  She  was  accustomed,  when  she  would 
humiliate  the  king  and  his  minister  in  the  eyes  of 
the  friends  she  met  with,  to  point  to  her  mean 
dress,  soiled  and  threadbare,  and  to  her  miserable 
rooms,  destitute  of  necessary  furniture.  In  this 
poverty  she  died,  at  Cologne,  on  the  3rd  of  July, 


DEATH  OF  MARIE   DE   MEDICIS  1 93 

1642.  She  was  attended  in  her  last  hours  by  the 
ecclesiastic  Chigi,  who  became  pope  under  the 
name  of  Alexander  VII.  Asking  her  "  if  she  for- 
gave De  Richelieu  ?  "  she  replied,  "  Yes.  With 
all  my  heart ; "  but  she  refused  to  send  him,  as 
Chigi  suggested,  any  pledge  to  that  effect,  saying, 
"  C est  nn  pen  trop^  She  made  a  will,  leaving 
some  small  sums  to  those  who  had  been  kind  to 
her,  and  naming  the  amount  she  owed  to  several 
persons,  all  of  which  she  entreated  the  king  not  to 
refuse  to  pay.  Her  cross,  surrounded  with  dia- 
monds, and  containing  a  piece  of  the  supposed 
true  cross,  she  had  preserved,  she  said  "par  triste 
plaisanterie!'  She  left  it  to  her  daughter  Henri- 
etta, wife  of  Charles  I.,  and,  in  some  respects, 
more  unfortunate  than  herself. 

Rubens  had  received  Marie  de  Medicis  with 
great  kindness,  and  for  some  considerable  time 
she  was  a  guest  in  the  house  he  had  built  for 
himself  at  Cologne.  He  wrote  several  letters  to 
the  cardinal  on  her  behalf,  which  were  acknowl- 
edged by  an  offer  from  him  of  ten  thousand  pis- 
toles, or  louis  d'or,  for  the  master's  great  picture, 
"The  Descent  from  the  Cross."  Rubens  declined 
it,  preferring,  patriotically,  that  this  grand  cJief- 
d'<riivre  should  remain  in  the  country  of  his  birth. 

The  king  and  his  court  mourned,  in  their  black 
and  violet  robes,  for  the  unfortunate  queen  of 
Henry  IV.,  though  she  had  died  in  lonely  poverty 
and  exile.     Marie  de   Medicis,  in  the  days  of  her 


194  ^LD   PARIS 

grandeur  and  power,  though  she  sought  popularity, 
did  not  succeed  in  acquiring  it.  But  her  melan- 
choly fate  had  caused  her  follies  and  her  incapac- 
ity for  governing  to  be  forgotten,  and  pity  and 
sympathy  were  felt  for  her,  as  a  mother  harshly 
treated  by  her  son,  and  oppressed  by  the  minister 
who  first  owed  his  elevation  to  her.  True,  the 
king  had  addressed  a  declaration  to  the  parliament 
and  the  governors  of  the  provinces,  in  which  he 
attempted  to  justify  his  own  and  his  minister's 
conduct  towards  his  mother,  —  a  strange  conde- 
scension on  the  part  of  one  who  deemed  kings  so 
highly  placed  above  the  rest  of  the  world,  that  no 
remonstrance,  no  comment  on  their  acts,  was  per- 
missible to  the  race  of  inferior  mortals  they  by 
divine  right  reigned  over.  An  accusing  conscience 
probably  led  him  to  stoop  to  excuse  himself  in  the 
eyes  of  the  people.  Nevertheless,  they  continued 
to  pity  poor  Marie  de  Medicis,  and  to  regard  her 
as  a  victim  to  the  weakness  of  the  king  and  the 
ambition  of  the  minister. 

Richelieu  was  himself  at  that  time  in  failing 
health  ;  toil  and  anxiety  were  telling  upon  him. 
For  with  all  his  power  and  implacability,  his  un- 
failing prudence,  penetration,  and  energy,  he  had 
found  it  no  easy  task  at  once  to  curb  the  power  of 
Austria  ;  to  subdue  the  zeal  of  the  Huguenots  ; 
to  humble  the  haughty  and  turbulent  spirit  of  the 
noblesse ;  to  extinguish  the  liberties  and  privileges 
of  the  people ;   to  control  a  weak  but   impatient 


CIXQ   MARS  195 

and  fretful  monarch,  and  to  thwart  the  intrigues 
of  his  enemies,  who  aimed  at  overthrowing  his 
power,  and  even  at  taking  his  Hfe.  His  constitu- 
tion was  giving  way  under  the  incessant  mental 
and  physical  strain  he  had  for  years  undergone,  to 
maintain  his  own  power  and  position  while  estab- 
lishing absolute  authority  in  the  throne.  While 
lying  ill  at  Avignon,  he  received  confirmation  of  a 
conspiracy  against  him,  in  which  Spain  had  been 
asked  and  had  promised  to  aid.  Gaston  d' Orleans, 
the  Due  de  Bouillon,  and  Louis's  but  lately  chief 
favourite.  Cinq  Mars,  were  concerned  in  it.  As 
usual,  Gaston  not  only  withdrew  when  the  scheme 
became  impracticable,  but  gave  information  that 
caused  the  arrest  of  his  associates,  and  the  execu- 
tion of  Cinq  Mars  and  De  Thou. 

Cinq  Mars,  who  was  called  Monsieur  le 
Grand,  from  his  ofifice  of  grand  eciiyer  to  the 
king,  owed  his  introduction  to  the  court  to 
Richelieu.  He  was  a  mere  youth  when  placed 
as  page  in  the  royal  household ;  but  his  distin- 
guished air,  his  vivacity,  and  many  accom- 
plishments soon  brought  him  into  notice  and 
great  favour.  Places  of  trust  and  large  emolu- 
ments of  course  followed;  but  this  young  gen- 
tleman disappointed  the  expectations  of  his 
patron.  He  thought  more  of  amusing  himself 
than  of  pleasing  the  king,  and  did  not  prove 
sufficiently  pliant  for  the  favourite  of  a  weak 
monarch.     At  first  his  caprices  and  fancies,  his 


196  OLD   PARIS 

skill  in  a  variety  of  games  then  in  favour,  his 
haughty  airs,  his  extravagant  expenditure,  mag- 
nificence in  dress,  and  firm  belief  that  his  own 
merits  had  gained  him  so  much  credit  with  the 
king,  rather  amused  Louis  than  displeased  him. 
But  Cinq  Mars  had  but  little  discretion,  and  too 
much  faith  in  himself  to  perceive  that  his  favour 
was  on  the  decline. 

He  was  with  the  king  at  the  siege  of  Per- 
pignan,  and  accompanied  him  into  the  trenches. 
Without  any  experience  in  the  art  of  war,  he 
yet  interfered  in  the  military  arrangements,  and 
spoke  slightingly  and  jestingly  of  the  operations 
of  the  siege.  His  ill-timed  mirth  and  raillery 
were  resented  by  the  officers,  and,  worse  than 
all  for  Cinq  Mars,  provoked  an  ebullition  of 
temper  in  the  king,  who  thought  himself  a  great 
soldier,  and  expected  others  to  think,  or  feign 
to  think,  the  same.  The  badinage  of  Cinq  Mars 
was  therefore  fatal  to  him. 

" Allez !  orgiieilleiiXy'  stammered  out  the  king; 
"  vous  voulez  que  Von  ame  que  voiis  employes  tine 
partie  de  la  unit  a  regler  avec  inoi  les  ajfaircs 
de  nion  royamne ;  ct  vons  les  passes  dans  via 
garde-robe,  a  lire  des  romans  avec  mes  valets  de 
chambre.  Allez !  II  y  a  six  mois  qne  je  vous 
vomis  r' 

Mortified  vanity,  resentment  and  thought- 
lessness drew  poor  Cinq  Mars  into  the  plot 
against   Richelieu,  who  was   supposed  to  prompt 


HIS  PICTURESQUE   APPEARANCE  1 97 

every  act  of  the  king.  When  arrested  and 
placed  in  confinement,  he  beHeved  it  to  be  a 
mere  show  of  severity  towards  him,  and  that 
he  would  be  speedily  released.  His  apartment 
not  being  sufficiently  elegant,  he  was  allowed  to 
send  for  his  own  furniture,  and  his  costly  bed 
—  a  most  luxurious  and  sumptuous  couch,  with 
hangings  of  the  richest  scarlet  silk  and  gold 
brocade.  When  he  was  brought  before  the 
Council  appointed  to  try,  or  rather  to  condemn 
him  (for  the  cardinal,  though  on  the  very  brink 
of  the  grave,  had  already  decreed  the  fate  of 
this  vain  and  thoughtless  young  man  of  twenty- 
four),  his  appearance  excited  great  interest.  He 
is  described  as  '*  exceedingly  handsome,  tall, 
well-proportioned,  and  graceful."  He  wore  a 
pourpoint,  or  vest,  of  fine  Flemish  cloth  of  a 
pale  brown  colour,  ornamented  with  gold  lace. 
Over  this  was  thrown  a  long  scarlet  cloak,  with 
large  and  finely  chased  gold  buttons,  and  his 
wavy  brown  hair  fell  in  curls  on  his  shoulders. 

When  convinced  that  the  proceedings  were 
no  mere  form,  and  that  it  was  really  intended 
that  his  life  should  pay  the  forfeit  of  his  folly, 
he  at  once  resigned  himself  to  his  fate  and  re- 
quested to  be  allowed  to  see  his  confessor.  To 
him,  he  said,  "nothing  had  so  much  grieved 
him  as  to  find  himself  deserted  in  the  hour  of 
misfortune  by  all  whom  he  had  believed  to  be 
his    friends.       I    could    not    have    supposed    it 


198  OLD   PARIS 

possible,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  I  learn  only  now, 
when  too  late  to  profit  by  it,  that  the  friendships 
of  the  court  are  but  dissimulation."  When 
executed  he  was  dressed  as  above,  with  the 
addition  of  a  black  Catalonian  hat  and  plume, 
green  silk  stockings,  and  white  silk  pantaloons, 
with  fine  Flemish  lace  at  the  knees. 

With  this  charming  young  cavalier  was  also 
executed  his  friend,  the  Councillor  de  Thou, 
the  son  of  the  historian.  He  had  taken  no  part 
whatever  in  the  plot,  but  had  disapproved  of  it 
entirely.  His  crime  was  that,  having  been 
made  acquainted  with  it,  he  did  not  betray 
his  friend.  They  embraced  before  laying  their 
heads  on  the  block,  and  both  met  their  fate 
with  courage.  As  the  hour  appointed  for  the 
execution  was  drawing  nigh,  the  king,  looking 
at  his  watch,  remarked  with  much  satisfaction 
that  Monsieur  le  Grand  ^^  pas  salt  alors  un  maiivais 
quart-d' heiire'' — this  is  said  to  have  been  the 
origin  of  the  phrase.  Cinq  Mars  was  the  lover 
of  Marion  Delorme,  and  would  have  married 
her  had  he  lived.  His  relatives  naturally  were 
opposed  to  it,  —  his  mother  especially,  Who  was 
of  a  very  high  family.  But  he  had  resolved 
upon  it,  being  greatly  attached  to  her.  This, 
it  has  been  asserted,  was  a  chief  cause  of 
Richelieu's  resentment  towards  Cinq  Mars,  as 
he,  also,  aspired  to  the  good  graces  of  that 
celebrated  courtesan. 


DEATH  OF   THE    GREAT  CARDINAL        1 99 

But  the  hand  of  death  was  upon  the  great  car- 
dinal ;  and  vengeance  being  sated,  he  desired  to 
return  to  the  capital.  Accordingly  he  was  borne 
from  Lyons  to  Paris  in  a  litter,  on  the  shoulders  of 
his  guards ;  a  detachment  preceding  him  to  make 
breaches  in  the  walls  of  the  fortified  towns  on  his 
route,  that  no  delay  might  occur  in  admitting  him, 
and  no  unnecessary  detour  lengthen  his  journey. 
He  declared,  on  receiving  the  sacrament,  that 
during  the  whole  course  of  his  ministry  "  his  sole 
aim  had  been  to  secure  the  prosperity  and  general 
good  of  the  state,  and  to  promote  the  practice  of 
religion."  The  public  voice  did  not  ratify  this 
declaration ;  rather,  the  serenity  of  his  deathbed 
was  thought  marvellous  in  one  who  had  sacrificed 
so  many  lives  to  his  ambitious  views.  He  died 
on  the  4th  of  December,  1642,  and  was  buried  in 
the  Sorbonne,  which  he  had  rebuilt,  and  where  a 
splendid  mausoleum  was  erected  to  his  memory. 
The  Palais  Cardinal,  henceforth  Palais  Royal,  he 
had  made  a  present  of  to  the  king  three  years 
after  its  completion,  to  allay,  as  was  supposed, 
Louis's  dissatisfaction  at  the  splendour  of  the 
cardinal's  style  of  living.  Besides  the  palace,  he 
bequeathed  to  the  king  the  magnificent  tapestry 
he  was  accustomed  to  expose  on  the  festival  of 
the  Corpus  Christi,  as  well  as  500,000  ecus,  —  a 
large  sum  of  money  in  those  days.  The  royal 
printing  house,  the  botanical  gardens,  and  many 
improvements  in  Paris,  were  due  to  Richelieu. 


200  OLD   PARIS 

He  has  been  called  "the  precursor  of  the 
French  Revolution,"  and  his  character  and  minis- 
try have  been  variously  estimated.  But  he  played 
too  prominent  a  part  in  the  affairs  of  France  and 
of  Europe  for  any  attempt  to  be  made  in  these 
pages  to  presume  to  pass  judgment  upon  him. 
He  was  the  author  of  several  works  on  politics 
and  religion.  The  subjects  of  several  plays  were 
also  furnished  by  him  to  the  five  authors  he 
employed  to  write  for  his  theatre,  and  some  part 
of  the  verses  were  from  his  own  pen ;  but  how- 
ever great  he  may  be  considered  to  have  been  as 
a  minister,  he  was  certainly  a  very  poor  poet. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

Louis  once  more  is  King.  —  Economy  the  Order  of  the  Day.  — 
Le  Seigneur  de  Montauron.  —  Couverts  a  la  Montauron. — 
Profuse  Hospitality.  —  Comeille  and  his  Patrons.  —  Death 
of  Louis  XIII. — Anne  appointed  Regent. —  Paris  at  the 
Death  of  Louis  XIII.  —  The  Cardinal's  Improvements. — 
Oases  in  the  Desert.  — Numerous  Convents. 


^f^?X  REED  from  the  control  of  his  monitor, 
^11^)  Louis  again  felt  as  at  the  death  of  the 
^^^1^  Marechal  d'Ancre,  when  he  exclaimed, 
"  Enfinje  suis  roi  !  "  He  was  now  "  every  inch  a 
king,"  free  to  regulate  the  affairs  of  his  kingdom 
according  to  his  own  notions  of  good  and  wise 
government.  First,  he  sat  down  and  composed 
an  air  to  the  rondeau  on  the  death  of  the  cardinal, 
beginning,  "//  a  passe,  il  a  plie  bagage;''  then, 
" avare  reconmi  eji  tontes  choses'" — he  began  his 
reforms  by  revoking  all  pensions  granted  by  the 
cardinal  to  indigent  men  of  letters  ;  remarking,  as 
he  drew  his  pen  through  each  name,  "  nous  iiavons 
plus  affaire  a  cela."  He  determined  also  to  reduce 
the  expenditure  in  his  household,  and  to  limit  it 
to  what  was  but  strictly  necessary.  A  potage, 
therefore,  which  his  aide-de-camp,  General  Co- 
querel,  was    accustomed    to   take  every  morning, 


202  OLD    PARIS 

henceforth  was  to  be  discontinued,  also  the  bis- 
cuits of  which  M.  de  la  Veilliere  was  in  the  bad 
habit  of  eating  too  many.  Others  were  found  to 
indulge  in  such  dainties  as  pastry  and  preserves, 
to  eat  fruit  from  the  king's  garden  that  might 
have  put  money  into  his  purse  if  sold  in  the 
markets.  Some  miscreants,  too,  had  not  scrupled 
when  ill,  or  feigning  to  be  ill,  to  pamper  their 
appetites  with  pots  of  jelly,  —  thus  causing  the 
supply  for  the  king's  table  to  come  to  an  end 
before  the  date  he  had  set  down  for  its  renewal. 

Louis  XIII.  piqued  himself  on  raising  spring 
vegetables  earlier  in  the  season  than  any  other 
market-gardener.  He  superintended  all  garden- 
ing operations  himself,  and  allowed  none  of  the 
early  crops  to  be  supplied  to  his  own  table  or 
consumed  by  his  household.  His  green-peas  were 
always  the  first  in  the  market,  and  were  bought, 
at  any  fancy  price  the  king  might  choose  to  place 
on  them,  by  the  viaitrc  cf  hotel  of  the  wealthy 
Pierre  du  Puget,  Seigneur  de  Montauron,  Con- 
seiller  du  roi,  also  Premier  President  au  Bureau 
des  finances  a  Montauron.  It  is  proper  to  give 
his  name  and  title  in  full,  for  he  was  a  most  mag- 
nificent personage  and  spent  his  wealth  right 
royally.  His  own  gardens  were  chiefly  laid  out 
in  pleasure-grounds,  though  a  large  space  reserved 
for  fruit-bearing  trees  and  vegetables  produced 
abundantly.  But  M.  de  Montauron  kept  open 
house  all  the  year  round  for  princes  and  grands 


LE   SEIGNEUR   DE   MONTAURON  2O3 

seigneurs,  whether  at  home  or  called  away  by  the 
duties  of  his  office.  It  pleased  him,  therefore,  to 
have  a  king  for  his  greengrocer,  fruiterer,  and 
vintner  (he  took  the  choicest  produce  of  the  royal 
vineyards),  to  supply  the  extra  needs  of  his 
profusely-spread  hospitable  board. 

M.  de  Montauron  was  a  native  of  Gascony. 
His  magnificent  style  of  living,  his  profuse 
liberality  and  desire  to  excel  in  all  things,  had 
gained  him  the  sobriquet  of  "  Son  Eminence 
Gascone."  So  great  was  his  celebrity  that 
shopkeepers  named  their  best  and  finest  goods, 
whether  for  the  table  or  for  personal  wear,  "  a 
la  Montmirony  Richly-embroidered  gloves,  the 
finest  and  most  expensive  lace  kerchiefs  or  ties, 
were  "gants,  ct  ficJins,  a  la  Montauron,''  a  new 
caleche,  less  cumbrous  and  more  elegant  in  form, 
was  "<?  la  Montauron.''  In  short,  this  magnificent 
Seigneur  de  Montauron  was  the  leader  of  fashion, 
from  gloves  and  fans,  hats  and  feathers,  glass, 
china  and  silver  plate,  to  the  fine  bread  supplied 
for  his  table,  which,  from  its  purity  and  white- 
ness, was  called  '^ pain  a  la  Montauron."  The 
Due  de  Montausier,  whose  establishment  was  also 
maintained  sur  un  grand  pied,  had  introduced  at 
his  table  large  silver  spoons  and  forks  instead  of 
the  inconveniently  small  ones  in  general  use. 
The  idea  was  immediately  turned  to  account  by 
some  one  of  the  loyal  retainers  of  "  Son  Eminence 
Gascone  ;  "   and  a  knife  of  a  suitable  size  being 


204  OLD    PARIS 

added,  they  appeared  at  the  daily  banquet  as 
^^  converts  a  la  Montauvon,''  to  the  admiration 
of  a  numerous  party  of  distinguished  guests. 
Speedily  they  became  the  fashion  ;  the  duke 
gaining  credit  as  the  first  to  adopt  it,  while  the 
glory  of  originating  it  rested  on  the  brow  of  the 
Seigneur  de  Montauron. 

It  was  esteemed  such  a  piece  of  good  fortune 
to  obtain  a  place  amongst  the  numerous  serving- 
ing  men  of  the  Montauron  household,  that  the 
mattre  dliotel  had  always  a  long  list  of  appli- 
cants to  select  from  to  fill  up  any  vacancy  that 
occurred ;  and  the  lucky  individual  on  whom 
his  choice  fell  readily  paid  him  his  customary  fee 
of  ten  louis  (for — -a  large  sum  for  a  douceur  of 
that  kind  in  those  days.  M.  de  Montauron  was 
no  less  profuse  in  aiding  the  indigent  than  in 
entertaining  his  friends.  He  gave  largely  to  the 
charities  of  Vincent  de  Paul.  Indeed,  with  such 
a  reputation  it  was  scarcely  possible  for  him  to 
refuse  any  demand  on  his  bounty,  and  apparently 
he  had  well-filled  coffers  to  draw  upon. 

He  was  a  pleasant-tempered  man  and  a  genial 
host,  and  never  more  delighted  than  when  princes 
condescended  to  make  themselves  as  much  at 
home  in  his  house  as  in  their  own  hotels.  Of 
those  who  availed  themselves  of  his  hospitality  to 
its  fullest  extent  —  to  live  at  free  quarters  and 
borrow  his  money  —  he  was  accustomed  to  say, 
''lis  sont  sur  Fc'tat  de  via  maison."     It  was  his 


CORNEILLE   AA^D   HIS   PATRONS  205 

habit,  and  it  was  generally  understood  that  it  was 
permitted  to  him,  to  tntoyer  those  princely  guests 
and  the  grands  seignetirs  for  whom  he  provided  so 
sumptuous  a  table.  His  bcnedicite  was  always  an 
hilarious  "  Ca,  ca,  mes  enfants  !  rejoiiissons  no2is  !" 
There  was  also  a  Mademoiselle  de  Montauron,  a 
natural  daughter  but  presumptive  heiress.  She 
was  a  handsome  girl,  educated  in  the  best  manner 
then  possible,  and  treated  in  all  respects  en  prin- 
cesse.  Appropriately,  therefore,  an  Italian  prince 
is  said  to  have  been  chosen  by  M.  de  Montauron 
to  be  honoured  with  her  hand  and  large  dowry. 

Corneille  dedicated  his  tragedy  of  "Cinna" 
to  this  magnificent  Gascon,  and  in  the  usual 
flattering  language  of  the  dedicatory  epistles  of 
those  days,  compared  him  to  the  "  Grand  Auguste." 
De  Montauron  sent  the  poet,  in  return,  a  purse 
containing  two  hundred  pistoles,  or  louis  d'or.  The 
king  having  heard  of  this  liberality,  was  rather 
disconcerted  when  the  Due  de  Schomberg,  on  the 
part  of  Corneille,  requested  permission  to  dedicate 
to  him  his  tragedy  of  "  Polyeucte."  "  N^07i,  non,'' 
he  replied  in  his  stammering  way,  when  confused, 
"  z7  n  est  pas  nc'ccssaire^ 

"  Sire,"  said  the  duke,  "  it  is  not  from  interested 
motives  that  Corneille  seeks  this  honour." 

"Bien,  done  bicn,''  answered  Louis,  much 
relieved,   " //  me  f era  plaisir." 

The  play  not  being  completed  until  after  the 
king's  death,  was  dedicated  to  Anne  of  Austria. 


206  OLD    PARIS 

She,   also,   was   not  moved   to  imitate  De   Mon 
tauron's  liberality. 

Louis  XIII.  died  on  the  14th  of  May,  1643, 
—  the  same  month,  and  same  day  of  the  month, 
as  Henry  IV.  was  assassinated.  He  dreaded 
death,  and  during  his  last  illness  made  a  solemn 
vow  that  if  God  would  be  pleased  to  restore 
him  to  health,  he  would  abdicate,  as  soon  as  his 
son  should  be  able  to  mount  and  ride  a  horse, 
when  he  would  retire  to  a  monastery,  and,  as  a 
monk,  devote  the  rest  of  his  life  to  prayer  and 
penitence.  But  it  was  evident  that  his  end  was 
approaching,  and  Vincent  de  Paul,  as  his  spiritual 
director,  strove  to  prepare  his  mind  to  look  with 
calmness  upon  it. 

Mazarin,  who,  at  the  recommendation  of  Louis 
XIII.,  had  received  the  cardinal's  hat  in  1641, 
and,  on  the  day  following  Richelieu's  death,  had 
been  admitted  a  member  of  the  supreme  council 
of  state,  had  become  from  that  time  devoted  to 
France.  Of  him  the  king  made  choice  to  be  the 
sole  adviser  of  the  queen  in  ecclesiastical  affairs  ; 
for  he  gave  her  the  name  of  regent,  but  without 
power  to  act  independently  of  a  council  of  regency, 
the  members  of  which  he  appointed  himself,  and 
who  were  to  remain  in  office  until  his  successor 
should  be  of  age.  His  intention  was  to  perpet- 
uate the  state  of  abasement  in  which  he  had  for 
so  many  years  kept  his  wife  and  brother.  "  He 
said  he  wished   to  bridle  the  queen,"  to  prevent 


PARIS  AT  THE  DEATH  OF  LOUIS  XIII.    20"/ 

her  interference  in  the  government  of  the  coun- 
try ;  for,  like  the  meddling  of  Marie  de  Medicis, 
it  would  lead  only  to  confusion  and  the  upsetting 
of  all  order  in  the  state's  councils.  This  testa- 
ment, surrounding  the  queen  with  innumerable 
limitations  and  reserves,  Mazarin  signed,  and 
Louis,  with  more  resignation,  then  turned  his 
thoughts  from  earthly  things.  The  queen,  in 
tears,  threw  herself  at  his  feet.  He  desired  his 
confessor  to  raise  her,  and  seemed  to  signify  that 
she  had  his  forgiveness  ;  but  he  passed  away  with- 
out any  other  sign  of  respect  or  feeling  for  her, 
for  he  believed  as  little  in  her  virtue  as  her 
capacity. 

"  The  people,"  says  Tallemant,  "  flocked  to  the 
king's  funeral,  and  as  full  of  laughter  and  merri- 
ment as  if  going  to  a  wedding ;  while  the  proces- 
sion that  set  out  to  meet  and  welcome  the  queen 
was  like  a  company  of  masquers  on  their  way  to 
a  carrousel.  They  pitied  her,"  he  adds,  "because 
they  did  not  yet  know  her."  Ikit  Anne  was 
already  invested  with  absolute  authority.  Scarcely 
was  the  testament  of  Louis  XIII.  signed  ere  it  was 
completely  set  aside.  Mazarin,  as  he  declared,  had 
subscribed  to  it,  notwithstanding  its  restrictions, 
for  the  advantage  of  the  queen,  —  and  a  little,  no 
doubt,  for  his  own.  The  title  of  regent  being 
conferred  on  her  by  the  king,  she  immediately, 
following  the  example  of  Marie  de  Medicis,  ap- 
pealed to  the  parliament  to  confirm  it,  and,  at  the 


208  OLD    PARIS 

same  time,  to  annul  the  restraints  imposed  on  her. 
The  parliament,  whose  political  influence  had  for 
years  been  as  naught,  and  that  would  not  have 
dared,  in  the  time  of  the  great  cardinal  and  the 
king,  to  raise  their  voice  to  express  an  opinion  on 
any  public  affair  of  importance,  not  only  confirmed 
the  title  of  the  queen-regent,  but  at  once  cast  to 
the  winds  all  Louis's  limitations,  and  placed  in  her 
hands  the  uncontrolled  government  of  France. 
They  also  gratified  the  Due  d'Orleans  by  confer- 
ring on  him  the  titular  office  of  Lieutenant  Gen- 
eral of  the  kingdom. 

Paris  had  outgrown  its  old  limits  greatly  during 
the  reign  of  Louis  XIII.,  especially  on  the  north 
side  of  the  Seine.  Any  improvements  or  embel- 
lishments it  had  undergone  were  due,  however,  to 
Marie  de  Medicis  or  to  Richelieu,  for  Louis's 
limited  share  of  power  was  used  to  restrict  rather 
than  to  further  the  magnificent  projects  of  his 
minister,  who  himself  was  hampered  by  his  inces- 
sant wars  and  their  drain  on  the  resources  of  the 
country,  as  well  as  his  want,  apparently,  of  finan- 
cial ability  in  the  management  of  the  revenues  of 
the  state.  The  bastions  extended,  at  the  time  of 
Louis's  death,  beyond  the  present  enclosure  of  the 
Tuileries  gardens  towards  the  Place  de  la  Con- 
corde ;  the  new  rampart  passing  along  the  site  of 
the  Rue  Royale  towards  the  modern  Boulevards 
de  la  Madeleine  and  des  Italiens.  Indeed,  those 
boulevards,  which  the  ancient  rampart  afterwards 


THE    CARDINAL'S   IMPROVEMENTS        209 

gave  place  to,  mark  with  tolerable  accuracy  the 
extent  of  old  Paris,  with  its  then  new  quarter  — 
the  present  Rue  de  Castiglione,  Place  Vendome, 
Rue  de  la  Paix,  and  the  streets  branching  off  east 
and  west. 

The  first  improvement  Richelieu  made  in  Paris 
was  the  widening  of  the  Rue  de  la  Ferronnerie, 
where  Henry  IV.  was  assassinated.  He  also 
widened  the  street  that  bears  his  name,  and  built 
the  gate  that  led  out  of  the  city  on  the  side  of 
Montmartre.  The  longest  and  finest  street  was 
still  the  Rue  St.  Antoine.  The  botanical  garden 
just  beyond  the  monastery  of  the  Assumption, 
near  the  present  site  of  the  Madeleine,  was  estab- 
lished by  Richelieu's  orders.  It  served  then  to 
supply  flowering  plants  for  the  parterres  of  the 
Tuileries  gardens.  But  old  Paris,  to  accommo- 
date its  army  of  useless  monks  and  nuns,  was 
encumbered  with  large  monasteries  and  convents 
innumerable ;  and  though  many  fine  hotels  of  the 
noblesse  were  built  during  the  reign,  yet  their  high 
outer  walls,  together  with  the  gloomy  surround- 
ings of  the  numerous  monastic  buildings,  and  the 
network  of  crooked  and  narrow  and  filthily  dirty 
streets,  formed  a  tout  ensemble  of  the  dreariest 
kind,  even  by  day,  but  especially  when  darkness 
came  on. 

Yet  there  were  oases  of  brightness  in  this 
desert  of  gloom,  and  on  sunny  spring  mornings 
and    moonlight    summer  evenings,    the  dirty    old 


2IO  OLD   PARIS 

city,  then  one  of  the  chief  plague-spots  of  Europe, 
might,  even  in  the  days  of  "  triste  Louis  Trcize,'' 
have  been  called  "gay  Paris."  Those  oases  were 
the  Cours  de  la  Reine,  and  the  gardens  of  the 
Place  Royal,  where  beauty  and  fashion  loved  to 
disport  themselves.  Then  behind  the  high  walls 
were  large  private  grounds,  where  the  dwellers  in 
fine  hotels  could  ramble  at  their  pleasure,  or 
assemble  their  friends  for  the  garden-parties  of 
the  period.  But  the  poor  !  Ah  !  it  was  a  fear- 
ful place  for  the  poor.  It  was  well  for  them  that 
even  one  ecclesiastic  was  found  to  teach  that  it 
was  in  the  world  that  God  should  be  served,  and 
not  in  the  convent  cells.  For  Paris,  from  the 
rapidly  increasing  number  of  its  monastic  estab- 
lishments, seemed  likely  to  become  a  city  of 
convents  —  abodes  of  superstition,  ignorance, 
idleness,  and  vice. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Recovery  of  the  Young  Duchess.  —  She  reappears  in  the  Beau 
Monde.  —  Chapelain's  "  Pucelle."  —  The  Duchess's  Opm- 
ion.  —  La  Guirlande  de  Julie.  —  Tallemant  des  Reaux. — 
Les  "  Historiettes." — ^  Nicholas  Rambouillet.  —  Madame  de 
la  Sabliere.  —  La  Haute  Volee  and  the  Financier.  —  Funeste 
Distraction. 

I  HE  small-pox  had  been  merciful  to  the 
brilliant  beauty  of  the  young  Duchesse 
de  Longueville.  The  dreaded  disease, 
which  appears  to  have  been  more  generally  in 
France  than  elsewhere  a  virulent  and  lingering 
one,  sinking  deep  into  the  skin,  scarring  and  in- 
denting the  face  frightfully,  had,  ■  in  her  case, 
passed  off  in  a  comparatively  slight  attack.  The 
anxious  fears  of  her  family  for  her  life  and  her 
beauty ;  her  own  trembling  anticipations  of  recov- 
ering but  to  find  her  career  of  conquest  cut  short 
at  its  outset,  were  dispelled  as  the  traces  of  the 
malady  gradually  left  her.  The  face  resumed  its 
smoothness  and  fairness,  and  after  a  season  of 
retirement  at  Chantilly,  she  reappeared,  we  are 
told,  in  the  bean  mondc,  ^^  dans  tout  V eclat  de  sa 
bcaute"  —  its  freshness  and  brightness  undimin- 
ished. She  had  grown  taller  during  her  absence 
from  society ;  and,  while  retaining  her  embonpoint, 


212  OLD    PARIS 

had  lost  her  extremely  girlish  air,  and  thus,  as  her 
admirers  considered,  had  gained  in  attractiveness. 
Of  the  salons  of  the  hotels  of  the  noblesse,  then 
thrown  open  to  general  society  in  imitation  of  the 
Hotel  de  Ramboiiillet,  the  salon  bleu  of  the  latter 
was  most  frequently  graced  by  the  presence  of 
the  young  duchess.  She  herself  did  not  pretend 
to  the  reputation  of  a  bel  esprit  ■ —  she  was  con- 
tent to  shine  as  a  beauty.  She  contributed  no 
bonis  rimes  when  bouts  rimes  formed  the  pastime 
of  the  evening ;  she  wrote  no  sonnets ;  she  took 
no  part  in  the  discussions  on  the  suppression  of 
old  words  and  the  coining  of  new  ones;  on  the 
omission  of  the  superfluous  ".f,"  and  the  desir- 
ableness of  transforming,  in  certain  combinations, 
the  "?/"  into  "z'."  But  she  liked  to  hear  all 
those  things,  and,  being  indolently  disposed,  to 
hear  them  at-  her  ease,  while  reclining  on  a  sofa, 
charmingly  dressed,  and  with  the  five  or  six 
'^ honnetes hommes  —  amants  inoffensifs,''  who  were 
permitted  to  sigh  at  her  feet,  grouped  around 
her.  Thus  she  both  improved  her  mind  and 
amused  herself  without  too  much  fatigue  or 
excitement,  the  energy  of  character  she  after- 
wards displayed  then  lying  dormant  and  unsus- 
pected in  her.  Her  preference  for  Rambouillet 
was,  in  a  great  measure,  owing  to  the  marquis 
having  been  Gouverneur  to  Monsieur  le  Prince, 
her  father,  and  that  the  interest  taken  by  the 
marquis  and  marquise  in  him  and  his  young  wife. 


CHAPELAIN'S  ''  PUCELLE"  21  3 

when  flying  from  Henry's  mad  pursuit  of  the 
princess,  was  now  continued  to  their  children. 

The  Duchesse  de  Longueville  was  regarded  at 
Rambouillet  almost  as  a  daughter  of  the  house, 
and  she  felt  that  when  there  she  was  to  make  her- 
self at  home,  and  she  did  so  thoroughly.  There 
she  heard  "  Cinna  "  and  "  Polyeucte  "  read,  Cal- 
prenede's  romances,  and  the  plays  of  Georges  de 
Scudery.  Also  Chapelain's  famous  "  Pucelle," 
half  of  which  was  pushed  by  his  friends  through 
several  editions.  The  remaining  six  books  were 
left  in  MS.  ;  for  patience  could  endure  no  more, 
notwithstanding  the  praises  of  Bishop  Huet,  and 
the  influence  brought  to  bear  to  obtain  popularity 
for  it.  Every  one,  at  its  first  reading,  desired  to 
dissemble  his  real  feeling,  from  consideration  to  a 
man  of  much  erudition,  who  had  fallen  into  the 
error  of  believing  himself  a  poet,  and  to  say  some- 
thing which  should  not  be  exactly  praise  of  his 
melancholy  production,  yet  not  altogether  dis- 
approval. The  duchess,  on  this  occasion,  being 
pressed  for  her  opinion,  said,  "  Safis  doute,  cctait 
un  tres  beau  pohne,  mats  aussi  trh  enmiyeuxy 

But  at  this  time  (1641)  the  society  of  Ram- 
bouillet was  greatly  interested  in  an  offering 
which  the  Due  de  Montausier  was  preparing  for 
presentation  to  Julie  d'Angennes.  That  faithful 
swain  had  now  been  for  ten  years  her  constant 
lover.  To  mark  this  epoch  in  the  long  course  of 
their  true  love,  which,  as  usual,  did  not  run  smooth 


214  OLD    PARIS 

(for  "  it  stood  upon  the  choice  of  friends,"  who 
would  have  none  of  a  Huguenot),  the  duke  pro- 
posed to  offer  his  Julie  a  garland,  which  should 
express,  emblematically,  all  the  virtues  he  believed 
her  possessed  of,  and  the  love  and  admiration  he 
felt  for  her.  Eighteen  flowers  were  arranged  in 
a  garland,  and  painted  on  vellum,  in  folio,  by 
Robertet,  the  most  celebrated  flower-painter  of 
the  day. 

Eighteen  of  her  poet  friends,  of  whom  the 
duke,  inspired  by  the  Muses  for  the  occasion, 
was  one,  described  in  a  madrigal  the  sentiments 
which  each  flower  of  the  garland  was  supposed 
to  represent ;  the  flowers  that  composed  it  being 
also  painted  separately,  each  on  a  distinct  page, 
and  each  poet's  contribution  written  under  the 
emblematic  blossom  to  which  it  related.  The 
writing  was  in  the  hand  of  the  celebrated 
caligraphist,  Jarry.  Both  the  painting  and  writ- 
ing are  said  to  have  been  exquisite,  and  the 
binding  of  the  volume  superb.  The  duke  named 
his  offering  "  La  Guirlande  de  Julie."  * 

*  The  superb  volume  presented  by  the  lover  to  his  mistress, 
and  so  celebrated  as  "La  Guirlande  de  Julie,"  passed  from  the 
family,  after  the  death  of  the  duke  and  the  duchess,  into  the 
hands  of  the  Abbe  Rothelin.  From  him  it  descended  to  M.  de 
Rose,  and  was  then  bought  by  the  Due  de  la  Valliere,  at  the 
sale  of  whose  property,  towards  the  end  of  the  last  century, 
it  was  sold  (Roederer's  "  Memoires  pour  servir")  for  14,510 
francs.  The  editor  of  the  "  Historiettes  "  says  it  is  still  in  the 
possession  of  the  family  of  the  Due  d'Uzes,  the  great  grandson 
of  the  Due  de  la  Valliere.  A  copy  was  published  in  1784,  by 
Didot,  of  Paris.     Another  in  1824,  by  Amoreaux,  of  Montpelier. 


TALLEMANT  DES  REAUX  21  5 

The  poetic  effusions  were  of  course  of  unequal 
merit.  Voiture,  Scudery,  and  Benserade,  were 
amongst  the  contributors.  Victor  Cousin  gives 
the  madrigal  of  the  lily  by  Tallemant  des  Reaux ; 
his  production  is  as  follows:  — 

MADRIGAL  SUR  LA  FLEUR  DU  LIS. 

A    MDLLE.    JULIE    D'ANGENNES    DE    RAMBOUILLET. 

"  Devant  vous  je  perds  la  victoire, 
Que  ma  blancheur  me  fit  donner; 
Et  ne  pretends  plus  d'autre  gloire 
Que  celle  de  vous  couronner. 

"  Le  ciel,  par  un  honneur  insigne, 
Fit  choix  de  moi  seul  autrefois, 
Comme  de  la  fleur  la  plus  digne, 
Pour  faire  un  present  a  nos  rois. 

"  Mais  si  j'obtenais  mon  requete, 
Mon  sort  serait  plus  glorieux, 
D'etre  monte  sur  votre  tete 

Que  d'etre  descendu  des  cieux."  * 

Gedeon  Tallemant  des  Reaux,  who  has  fre- 
quently been  confounded  with  his  brother,  the 
Academician,  Francois  Tallemant,  and  some- 
times with  his  nephew,  Paul  Tallemant,  also  of 
the  French  Academy,  was  so  constant  a  fre- 
quenter of  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  that  he 
has    been    called    "the    historian    of   the   famous 

*  This  is  an  allusion  to  the  legend  which  ascribes  the  adop- 
tion of  the  lily  as  the  emblem  of  France  by  one  of  its  saintly 
kings  to  its  having  descended  upon  him  from  heaven.  It  is 
singular  that  an  emblem  of  purity  should  also  have  been  em- 
ployed as  a  brand  of  disgrace  for  certain  malefactors. 


2l6  OLD    PARIS 

Hotel,"  and  "the  Brantome  of  the  seventeenth 
century."  He  wrote  for  his  own  amusement, 
and  with  unsparing  severity  satirized  his  con- 
temporaries, and  ridiculed  and  censured  the 
manners  of  the  age. 

"  Les  '  Historiettes^  "  says  Victor  Cousin,  "  dis- 
enchantetit  du  passe,  p arc e qii  e lies  sont,  avec  quelque 
pen  d' exaggeration,  vraies." 

Their  publication  is  recent,  compared  with  that 
of  other  memoirs  of  the  same  period.  The 
existence  of  the  MS.  was  unknown  for  a  con- 
siderable time,  and  its  authenticity  at  first 
doubted.  The  "  Historiettes "  afford  some  in- 
teresting information  respecting  the  Marquise 
de  Rambouillet  and  her  circle ;  otherwise,  as  is 
much  to  be  regretted,  his  descriptions  of  society, 
like  those  of  too  many  of  the  writers  of  that 
day,  are  generally  utterly  repelling,  from  their 
extreme  coarseness.  It  would  seem  from  his 
allusions  to  other  writings,  that  he  was  pre- 
paring, or  had  completed,  memoirs  of  Anne  of 
Austria,  and  of  Cardinal  Mazarin ;  but  his  family 
either  suppressed  them  or  neglected  to  preserve 
the  MSS. 

He  was  on  terms  of  intimate  friendship  with 
the  marquise  to  the  end  of  her  life.  Though 
wealthy,  learned,  and  witty,  he  was  considered  by 
the  grandees  of  the  salon  bleu  to  be  a  man  of 
little  pretension  —  one  who  knew  his  place  — 
while,  in  fact,  he  was  observing  them  very  closely. 


NICHOLAS  RAMBOUILLET  21"] 

and  mentally  taking  copious  notes  for  his  "  Histo- 
riettes."  His  family,  originally  of  the  bourgeois 
class,  had  been  for  a  generation  or  two  ennobled  ; 
but  Tallemant,  having  married  the  daughter  of  the 
rich  banker,  Nicholas  Rambouillet,  had  to  descend 
a  step  of  the  social  ladder,  and  take  rank  with  his 
wife's  father  as  "  un  Jiovime  de  financed  The 
nobles  of  the  period,  to  mark  their  contempt  for 
the  wealthy  financiers,  were  accustomed  to  call 
them  ''partisans,''  a  term  applied  to  those  who 
farmed  the  king's  revenue,  and  sometimes  "  mal- 
totiers "  or  tax-gatherers,  being  a  degree  more 
contemptuous.  His  own  means  were  ample,  and 
his  wife,  who  was  also  his  first  cousin,  had  a  very 
large  fortune.  He  had  asked  her  in  marriage 
when  she  was  but  eleven  and  a  half  years  old,  and 
the  parents  approving,  they  were  betrothed,  the 
marriage  taking  place  two  years  after. 

Her  father  was  the  Rambouillet  who  built  the 
fine  mansion  at  the  village  of  Neuilly  with  the 
celebrated  gardens,  to  which  the  name  of  "la 
folie  Rambouillet  "  was  given.  He  and  his  wife 
received  there  all  the  wealthy  Jiaute  bourgeoisie, 
with  a  fair  proportion  of  the  beau  vionde  of  the 
Marais,  and  a  sprinkling  of  the  noblesse.  The 
most  distinguished  of  "  the  men  of  the  gown,  men 
of  the  sword,  and  men  of  letters,"  might  be  met 
at  his  table,  and  ladies  of  high  fashion  did  not 
disdain  to  grace  the  salo)i  of  the  rich  banker's 
wife.     The  banker's  son  had  some  reputation  as 


2lS  OLD    PARIS 

a  poet ;  his  wife,  Madame  Rambouillet  de  la  Sa- 
bliere,  was  a  poetess  of  renown  in  her  day ;  she  is 
celebrated  in  the  cJiansonnettes  of  La  Fontaine, 
and  the  madrigals  of  the  Marquis  de  la  Fare.  The 
marquis  was  the  cicisbeo  or  ^^  galant  et  honnete 
homme"  of  the  poetess;  but  he  was  so  much 
addicted  to  gambling,  one  of  the  great  vices  of  the 
period,  that  the  game  then  most  in  vogue,  bassettc, 
had  almost  as  much  of  his  time  and  devotion  as 
the  lady.  This,  according  to  the  chivalric  notions 
then  prevalent,  was  deemed  an  infidelity,  and 
Madame  de  la  Sabliere  took  it  so  much  to  heart, 
that  disdaining  either  to  reproach  her  faithless 
knight,  or  to  seek  an  explanation  from  him,  "  she, 
sans  ^clat,  retired  to  a  convent,  and  devoted  the 
rest  of  her  life  to  the  pious  duty  of  nursing 
Vincent  de  Paul's  sick  folk  in  the  Hopital  des 
Incurables."  Whether  the  lady's  husband  ap- 
proved of  this  step  is  not  recorded,  but  he 
probably  was  too  fully  occupied  in  composing 
verses,  in  his  quality  of  poet,  shepherd,  or  knight, 
to  some  Chloe  or  Arthenice,  to  bestow  time  or 
thought  on  the  matter. 

But  notwithstanding  his  literary  and  wealthy 
connections,  his  own  affluent  circumstances,  cul- 
ture and  high  character,  as  well  as  the  fact  that 
his  sister  and  both  brothers  retained  their  position 
of  nobles,  Tallemant  des  Reaux  had  sometimes 
mortifying  slights  to  endure  in  the  aristocratic 
salons  he  frequented.      It  was  understood  that  in 


LA   HAUTE   VOLEE  AND  THE  FINANCIER   2ig 

the  salons  of  the  Marquise  de  Rambouillet  talent, 
mental  culture  and  moral  worth  were  regarded  as 
the  highest  distinctions.  But  there  was  a  courtly 
element  in  the  society  that  thought  otherwise,  and 
gave  birth  and  its  honours  and  privileges  the  first 
place.  Personal  merit  and  education  were  then 
but  lightly  regarded  by  those  who,  generally 
speaking,  possessed  little  of  either,  and  large 
fortunes  certainly  did  not  command  the  considera- 
tion, much  less  the  homage,  paid  to  mere  wealth 
in  these  days. 

Dancing  was  then  so  much  the  rage  that  it 
must  have  been  mortifying  to  a  man  of  Talle- 
mant's  position  when  the  lady  he  sought  for 
his  partner,  if  she  did  not  absolutely  refuse  him, 
scarcely  deigned  to  speak  to  him,  or  to  reply  when 
he  addressed  her ;  for  ladies  of  noble  birth  did 
not  willingly  dance  with  the  financiers  unless  they 
wished  to  borrow  money  of  them,  or  get  advances 
on  their  jewels  to  pay  their  gambling  debts. 
Tallemant  des  Reaux  was  the  intimate  and  confi- 
dential friend  of  the  eloquent  Olivier  Patru  ;  the 
severe  Due  de  Montausier  also  valued  him  highly, 
and  with  the  whole  of  the  Rambouillet  family  he 
maintained  the  closest  ties  of  friendship.  For  the 
rest,  he  took  ample  vengeance  for  all  slights,  in 
his  "  Historiettes,"  and  wrote  many  a  witty 
couplet  of  which  the  theme  was  '' vicssieurs  Ics 
phmicts  "  (the  courtiers),  to  whose  use  and  adorn- 
ment white    plumes   and   red   heels  were    sacred. 


220  OLD   PARIS 

He  has  been  accused  of  attempting  to  disparage 
the  memory  of  Henry  IV.  He  says,  "  he  was 
naturally  inclined  to  theft,  and  would  probably 
have  been  hanged  had  he  not  been  a  king."  That 
he  was,  in  fact,  afflicted  too  often  with  a  "funeste 
distraction "  that  led  to  his  appropriating,  or 
endeavouring  to  appropriate  what  did  not  belong 
to  him.  It  has  been  supposed  that  allusion  was 
intended  to  Henry's  amours. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

La  Bonne  Regence.  —  Exiles  recalled ;  Captives  set  Free.  — 
The  Bishop  of  Beauvais. — The  Due  de  Beaufort.  —  Car- 
dinal Mazarin.  —  His  affected  Humility.  —  Indolence  of  the 
Queen- Regent.  —  Evenings  at  Court.  —  The  Wily  and  "  Beau 
Cardinal."  —  Laurels  and  Bays.  —  Voiture,  a  Royal  Favour- 
ite.—  An  Impromptu. 

'AI  vu  le  boil  temps  de  la  bonne 
regence,''  sang  Saint  Evremond  in  his 
latter  years,  and  so  promisingly  did 
the  regency  of  Anne  of  Austria  begin,  that 
^^  une  bonne  regence''  was  the  hope  and  expecta- 
tion of  all  classes.  Anne  had  been  oppressed 
and  humiliated,  and,  as  some  thought,  maligned 
by  her  gloomy,  suspicious  husband  and  his 
despotic  and  implacable  minister.  And  the 
people  who  had  feared  the  latter  and  hated 
both  him  and  the  king,  rejoiced  with  her  that 
she,  as  well  as  themselves,  was  freed  from  their 
tyrannous  yoke.  Anne,  too,  was  all  smiles 
and  graciousness.  The  humbled  and  dispersed 
gentilshommes,  or  petite  noblesse,  returned  to  the 
court  to  profit  by  the  new  order  of  things,  for 
nothing  was  refused,  and  pensions  and  places 
were    to    be    had    for    asking.       The    banished 


222  OLD    PARIS 

offenders  were  welcomed  back  to  their  country. 
Prison  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  amongst 
other  of  Richelieu's  captives,  the  Marechal  de 
Bassompierre,  after  twelve  years  of  seclusion 
in  the  Bastille,  regained  his  liberty  and  confis- 
cated property.  He  was  even  offered  the  post 
of  governor  to  the  young  king ;  but  he  declined 
the  honour,  alleging  his  unfitness  for  so  im- 
portant a  charge  on  account  of  age  and  in- 
firmities. 

When  La  Porte,  whose  ingenuity  had  saved 
the  reputation  of  Anne  of  Austria,  and  whose 
fidelity  to  her  was  unshaken  by  imprisonment 
and  Richelieu's  menaces  of  death,  appeared 
before  her  as  one  of  the  liberated  captives,  she 
exclaimed  publicly :  "  Voila  ce  pauvre  gar^on  qui 
a  tant  soiiffert  pour  moi  ct  a  qui  je  dois  tout  ce 
que  je  suis  a  present.''  Anne  gave  him  100,000 
livres  to  buy  the  place  of  premier  valet  de 
chambre  to  the  young  king.  But  La  Porte 
was  disappointed  in  his  expectation  of  being 
admitted  to  the  confidence  of  his  royal  mistress 
as  a  reward  for  past  faithful  services.  Pos- 
sessed of  the  secrets  of  her  early  life,  he  now 
warned  her  that  loss  of  public  favour  would  be 
the  consequence  of  too  great  a  familiarity  of 
manner  in  her  relations  with  Mazarin. 

The  queen-regent,  however,  chose  for  her 
minister  the  Bishop  of  Beauvais,  but  was  be- 
lieved   to    be    much    under    the    influence    of    a 


THE   BISHOP   OF  BEAUVAIS  223 

sentimental  friendship  she  entertained  for  the 
Due  de  Beaufort,  the  son  of  Cesar  Due  de 
Vendome.  The  bishop  —  ^^  idiot  des  idiots,''  as 
he  was  termed — seems  to  have  been  chosen  for 
his  want  of  every  quahty  a  minister  should 
possess,  in  order  to  afford  a  pretext  for  raising 
Mazarin  to  power.  He  was  greatly  disliked  by 
the  people,  but  favourably  regarded,  it  had  been 
suspected,  even  before  Louis's  death,  by  the 
queen.  Beauvais's  first  use  of  ministerial  power 
was  to  inform  the  Dutch  that  they  must  not 
expect  to  continue  in  alliance  with  France  un- 
less they  became  converted  to  her  religion. 
Even  the  bigoted  queen  felt  shocked  that  such 
a  pretension  should  have  been  put  forth  in  her 
name. 

The  Vendome  family  —  always  a  popular  one 
—  was  then  even  more  so  than  usual,  owing  to 
the  rebuffs,  the  humiliations  and  disgrace  they 
and  their  partizans  had  undergone  at  the  hands 
of  Richelieu.  The  Due  de  Beaufort  had  taken 
a  fancy  to  govern  the  kingdom ;  it  therefore 
seemed  probable  that  the  bishop  would  be 
succeeded  by  a  minister  no  less  incompetent, 
and  infinitely  more  flighty  than  himself.  The 
duke  played  the  gallant  with  great  assiduity, 
and  the  queen  received  his  attentions  with  very 
marked  favour.  She  was  still  by  no  means 
averse  to  a  little  flirtation  — "  gallantry  and 
devotion    went     hand-in-hand    with     her."       The 


224  OLD    PARIS 

bishop's  imbecility,  the  queen's  excessive  indo- 
lence, and  the  distrust  she  had  of  her  own 
capacity  to  conduct  affairs  of  state,  made  it 
absolutely  necessary  that  she  should  change 
her  minister.  A  great  coolness  had,  however, 
been  observed  suddenly  to  occur  in  her  manner 
towards  Beaufort.  She  had  discovered  that  he 
was  playing  the  passionate  lover  to  the  beautiful 
Madame  de  Montbazon,  and  that,  while  he  pre- 
tended to  have  eyes  only  for  his  sovereign,  he 
was  assuring  that  lady  —  who  had  half  or  more 
of  the  grands  seigneurs  of  the  court  sighing  at 
her  feet  —  that  his  devotion  to  the  mother  of 
his  king  was  solely  due  to  political  motives. 

Beaufort  had  been  accustomed  to  spend  not 
only  hours,  but  whole  days  with  the  queen,  amus- 
ing her  greatly  with  his  lively  conversation  and 
by  his  gaiety  of  temper.  But  idle  as  she  was  in 
every  sense  —  refusing  even  to  undergo  the  mental 
fatigue  of  making  herself  acquainted  with  the  con- 
cerns of  the  government,  or  to  be  troubled  to 
express  any  will  of  her  own  in  such  matters  — 
she  could  be  haughty  and  passionate  where  her 
feelings  were  interested.  The  supple  and  docile 
Cardinal  Mazarin,  by  his  complaisant  and  insinuat- 
ing manners,  his  engaging  conversation,  and  not 
unpleasing  personal  appearance,  had  already  won 
her  favour,  and  it  is  probable  that  she  would 
sooner  have  relieved  herself  of  the  burden  of  abso- 
lute power,   which    she   found    so    overwhelming, 


CARDINAL    MAZARIN  22  5 

and  placed  it  in  his  hands,  had  she  not  feared  to 
rouse  the  resentment  of  her  friends. 

All  who  had  taken  her  part,  all  who  had  plotted 
and  suffered  with  her,  detested  the  memory  and 
the  political  maxims  of  Richelieu.  They  abhorred 
all  who  had  been  favoured  and  raised  to  office  by 
him,  but  none  did  they  abhor  so  much  as  Mazarin, 
whom  Louis  XIII.  had  made  chief  of  the  cabinet 
on  Richelieu's  death.  Mazarin  was  aware  of  the 
strong  prejudice  existing  against  him.  He  affected 
to  be  about  to  retire  from  France  —  "  the  cabal 
that  opposed  him  being  too  powerful  a  one  to 
be  resisted"  —  and  to  take  up  his  residence  in 
Italy.  But  Anne,  irritated  by  the  conduct  of 
Beaufort,  and  sinking  under  the  magnitude  of  the 
task  she  had  undertaken,  dismissed  the  incompe- 
tent Beauvais,  and  called  in  the  aid  of  Mazarin. 
Unlike  Richelieu,  Mazarin  in  manner  was  gentle, 
gracious  and  benignant ;  he  managed  affairs  very 
ably,  and,  by  much  tact  and  ductility,  gained  over 
the  Duke  of  Orleans,  Monsieur  le  Prince,  and 
others  who  had  supported  the  queen,  but  hitherto 
had  been  opposed  to  him. 

At  first  he  affected  no  state,  but  was  as  modest 
in  manner  and  simple  in  his  mode  of  living  as 
Richelieu  had  been  haughty  and  overbearing, 
profuse  and  luxurious.  He  not  only  refused  an 
escort  of  guards,  and  forbore  to  assert  —  as  his 
arrogant  predecessor  had  done  —  his  right  to  take 
the  pas   of    the    princes,  but   lamented    that    his 


226  OLD   PARIS 

dignity  of  cardinal  forbade  him  to  humble  him- 
self to  the  extent  he  desired.  Soon  he  became 
chef  du  conscil,  which  necessitated  les  petits  con- 
seils  —  long  tete-a-tetc  conferences  with  the  queen 
in  the  evening,  idle  gossip  or  petty  intrigue  that 
amused  her  —  for  into  the  business  or  cares  of 
state  she  would  not  enter,  and  all  real  authority 
she  gave  up  to  Mazarin  absolutely.  And  for  a 
time  everything  went  well ;  D'Enghien,  Turenne 
and  Gaston  d' Orleans  fought  successfully  the 
battles  of  the  country ;  the  queen  passed  her  time 
in  a  monotonous  round  of  dreary  amusements, 
and  spent  half  the  day  in  her  bed.  The  other 
half  was  occupied  in  praying  in  her  oratory,  comb- 
ing her  hair,  displaying  —  for  adoration  —  her 
beautiful  hands,  and  regaling  a  rather  large  appe- 
tite with  savoury  dishes  and  delicacies,  for  the 
fragments  of  which  it  amused  her  much  to  see 
her  bevy  of  ladies  scramble ;  she  laughing  still 
more  heartily  when  —  as  not  unfrequently  hap- 
pened—  the  servants  entered  and  forcibly  bore 
away  for  their  own  table  the  yet  unappropriated 
scraps  of  the  feast. 

This  ^^ grajide  reine^^  never  read,  —  reading  was 
an  accomplishment  she  did  not  excel  in,  —  and 
her  mental  indolence  was  so  excessive  that  she 
was  incapable  of  sufficiently  sustaining  attention 
to  derive  either  amusement  or  instruction  from 
the  reading  of  others.  She  was  profoundly  igno- 
rant of  everything  but  the  etiquette  and  forms  of 


EVENINGS  AT  COURT  22/ 

the  court,  its  scandals,  gossip,  and  intrigue.  She 
was  fond  of  the  play,  and,  after  the  feast,  that  was 
her  usual  amusement.  During  her  first  year  of 
widowhood  she  sat  behind  a  curtain,  concealed 
from  view,  that  she  might  seem  to  respect  estab- 
lished customs,  while  making  no  sacrifice  to  them 
of  her  inclinations.  After  the  play,  there  was 
*' petit  conseir'  with  the  cardinal.  If  it  did  not 
take  up  too  much  of  the  evening,  "  eile  tenait 
cercle,"  for  a  short  time  only.  These  receptions 
being  fatiguing  to  her,  were  rarely  numerously 
attended.  If  perchance  they  were,  she  bade  an 
early  good-night  to  the  company,  and  withdrew  to 
her  oratory  to  pray.  At  eleven  she  took  supper, 
and  the  ladies  ate  what  she  left.  Afterwards, 
the  night  being  fine,  she  walked  with  a  party  of 
her  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  the  gardens  of  her 
palace  (the  Palais  Royal),  where  she  would  remain 
for  two  or  more  hours  after  midnight ;  then  home 
to  bed,  her  ladies  gossiping  with  her  in  her  niclle 
until  her  royal  eyes  were  closed  in  sleep.  That 
devoutly  wished-for  moment  having  arrived,  they 
stole  softly  out  of  her  chamber,  respited  —  poor 
creatures  —  from  their  slavery  for  a  few  short 
hours. 

Thus,  doiicenient,  doticement,  and  with  the  same 
precision  as  the  hands  of  a  clock  point  to  the  hour 
and  travel  round  it,  did  the  inane  life  of  Anne  of 
Austria  flow  on  for  some  years,  knowing  no 
change    except    such   variety   in    the    daily   pro- 


228  OLD   PARIS 

gramme  as  a  journey  to  St.  Germain  or  Fontaine- 
bleau  necessitated.  And  doubtless  she  was  happy. 
She  was  incapable  of  friendship  as  regarded  her 
own  sex,  and  very  coldly  received  Madame  de 
Hautefort  —  then  Duchesse  de  Schomberg  —  and 
Madame  de  Chevreuse,  who  had  risked  much  to 
serve  her  when,  rightly  or  wrongly,  she  was  sus- 
pected and  contemned  by  her  husband.  "  Her 
Spanish  nature  needed,"  says  Victor  Cousin,  re- 
spect and  homage  after  having  been  so  long 
oppressed."  The  wily  and  ^^  bean  cardinar'  per- 
ceived this,  also  that  her  weakness  would  prove 
strength  to  him,  and  afford  the  support  he  needed 
to  carry  out  his  own  ends  —  the  acquirement  of 
power,  and  especially  of  riches,  in  a  country  where 
he  was  a  stranger  and  surrounded  by  rivals  and 
enemies.  He  threw  himself  at  her  feet ;  being 
well  versed  in  all  the  seductive  arts  then  termed 
"Italian  gallantry"  — for  cardinal  though  he  was, 
Mazarin  was  scarcely  a  priest  —  and  he  gained 
her  heart.  Master  of  that,  her  poor  weak  mind 
found  relief  and  comfort  in  submission  to  his 
stronger  one.  In  her  name  "  Sou  eminence 
deiixihne  "  governed  the  kingdom,  and  feathered 
luxuriously  a  nest  for  himself  and  the  tribe  of 
Martinozzi  and  Mancini. 

Meanwhile,  laurel  wreaths  in  abundance  had 
been  gained  by  the  military  heroes  of  France,  but 
no  real  advantage  for  the  kingdom,  which,  "  in 
the  midst  of  apparent  prosperity,  really  stood  on 


LAURELS  AND   BAYS  229 

the  very  verge  of  ruin."  The  people,  the  parlia- 
ment, and  the  noblesse,  though  greatly  dissat- 
isfied with  the  queen's  choice  of  a  minister, 
were  at  first  comparatively  passive  under  the 
benign  rule  of  the  cardinal.  But  discontents 
arose ;  then  came  resistance  and  turbulence,  fol- 
lowed by  the  romantic  episode  of  the  Fronde  ; 
''la  gtierre  burlesque,''  as  it  has  been  termed, 
though  a  disastrous  civil  war  while  it  lasted,  and 
detrimental  in  its  results  to  the  liberties  of  the 
people. 

There  was  a  tendency  in  society  during  the  first 
years  of  the  regency  towards  a  fusion  of  classes, 
an  undoing  of  the  work  begun  by  Richelieu,  whose 
aim  was  to  keep  them  distinct,  and  to  mark  their 
gradations  by  special  costumes.  But  after  the 
establishment  of  the  Academic  Fran^aise  —  al- 
though a  few  mediocre  verses  sufficed  often  to 
gain  2ifatiteuil  there  —  men  of  letters  rose  in  the 
social  scale,  and  the  pedestal  from  which  all  who 
wore  the  helmet  and  sword  had  hitherto  looked 
down  on  the  men  of  the  pen,  on  the  magistracy 
and  other  professions,  was  somewhat  lowered. 
The  queen  showed  especial  favour  to  Voiture,  who 
used  great  freedom  of  speech  when  addressing 
her.  But  as  his  bons  mots  and  impromptus  were 
always  complimentary  or  amusing,  she  smiled  very 
graciously  upon  him,  and  gave  him  so  many  places 
and  sinecure  offices  that  Voiture  became  ''un  per- 
sonnagc.'"     He  placed  the  de  before  his  name,  lost 


230  OLD   rARIS 

his  genial  humour,  and  was  so  irascible  that  he 
could  not  endure  the  slightest  contradiction,  or 
opposition  to  his  whims.  The  income  he  derived 
from  his  various  posts,  though  a  very  large  one, 
did  not  suffice  to  pay  his  heavy  gambling  debts 
and  support  the  extravagant  and  licentious  mode 
of  life  he  adopted  when  the  sun  of  royal  favour 
shone  upon  him. 

The  queen,  taking  one  day  an  airing  in  her 
calhhe,  perceived  Voiture  reclining  against  a  tree, 
apparently  in  profound  meditation.  ^^  AJi !  voila 
M.  de  Voiture,''  she  exclaimed,  "y^  qiioi  done,  pen- 
sait-il?"  Voiture  was  no  doubt  studying  an 
im.proviptu,  with  no  idea,  of  course,  that  the  queen 
was  driving  in  that  direction.  He  advanced,  and 
bowing  low  answered  her  inquiry  as  follows : 

"  Je  pensais  si  le  cardinal, 
J'entends  celui  de  la  Valette, 
Pouvais  voir  I'eclat  sans  egal 
Dans  lequel  maintenant  vous  etes ; 
J'entends  celui  de  la  beaute  ; 
Car  aupres  je  n'estime  guere, 
Cela  soit  dit  sans  vous  deplaire 
Tout  I'eclat  de  la  majeste." 

"  Fort  Men  dit.  Monsieur  de  Voiture,''  said  the 
queen  laughingly,  as  she  drove  off.  Such  were 
the  freedoms  she  permitted,  and  which  her  favour- 
ites often  presumed  upon. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

War  with  Spain  continued. —  Rocroi,  Thionville  and  Cirq. — 
Public  Rejoicings  and  Fetes.  —  Silly  Practical  Jokes.  —  The 
Young  Hero  and  his  Family.  —  Portrait  of  the  Hero. — 
M.  de  Feuquieres'  Protege.  —  An  appropriate  Text.  —  A 
Sermon  at  Rambouillet. —  Debut  of  a  great  Orator.  —  Un 
Charmant  Homme.  —  A  Fashionable  Abbe.  —  The  Abbe 
foresees  a  Rival.  —  The  Abbe  attempts  a  Sermon.  —  Inter- 
rupted by  a  Nervous  Lady.  —  The  Congregation  disperses. 

'NNE  OF  AUSTRIA,  fond  of  Spain 
and  much  attached  to  her  brother, 
Philip  IV.,  was  yet  compelled  to  con- 
tinue the  Spanish  war  which  Richelieu  had 
begun  in  1635,  and  persisted  in,  though  it  was 
difficult  to  define  what  was  his  object  beyond 
making  himself  necessary  to  the  king.  How- 
ever, on  the  death  of  Louis  XIII.,  an  order 
was  despatched  to  the  young  Due  d'Enghien 
desiring  him  to  desist  from  hazarding  the  battle 
he  was  preparing  to  offer  the  Spaniards  before 
Rocroi.  But  the  ardour  of  the  duke  determined 
him  to  disobey  the  order,  and  success  justified 
his  disobedience.  The  P^rench  arms  for  more 
than  a  hundred  years  had  not  gained  so  brilliant 
a  victory  as  that  of  the  battle  of  Rocroi.     The 

triumphs    of    Henry    IV.    were    little    more    than 

231 


232  OLD   PARIS 

those  of  a  guerilla  chief  leading  bands  of  ill- 
disciplined  troops  in  time  of  civil  war.  But 
Rocroi  was  a  signal  victory  gained  over  the 
Spanish  army,  and  the  duke  with  the  whole  of 
the  French  troops  knelt  on  the  battle-field  to 
thank  God  for  it. 

The  young  hero  followed  up  his  success  by 
the  siege  of  Thionville  and  of  Cirq,  and  took 
both  these  towns.  He  drove  the  Germans 
across  the  Rhine,  and  followed  them  for  three 
successive  days ;  he  attacked  the  Spanish  Gen- 
eral Merci,  who  was  encamped  before  Fribourg, 
and  throwing  his  marshal's  baton  into  the  in- 
trenchments,  marched  at  the  head  of  his  regi- 
ment, sword  in  hand,  to  regain  it.  On  the 
fourth  day  Merci  decamped,  and  Philipsbourg 
and  Mayence  surrendered  to  the  duke.  Mar- 
shals Grammont  and  Turenne  served  under  him. 
These  distinguished  commanders  were  left  in 
charge  of  the  army,  and  the  duke  returned 
to  Paris,  where  fetes  and  rewards  and  the  ac- 
clamations of  all  classes  of  the  people  awaited 
him. 

The  colours  taken  in  battle  and  other  trophies 
of  the  war  were  displayed  in  the  grand  saloons 
of  the  Hotel  de  Conde,*  before  their  removal 
to  Notre  Dame.  Monsieur  le  Prince,  who  was 
the  president  of  Anne's  council  of  regency,  urged 

*  The   Hotel  de   Conde    stood    on   the   site    of    the   present 
Theatre  de  I'Odeon. 


PUBLIC   RECEPTfONS  AND   fAtES         233 

with  the  avidity  of  avarice  his  son's  claims 
on  the  state,  while  the  princess,  always  proud 
and  haughty,  so  magnified  the  deeds  of  the 
youthful  conqueror,  that  she  seemed  to  think 
the  crown  of  Spain  should  be  placed  on  his 
brow.  There  were  also  great  rejoicings  at 
Rambouillet ;  for  the  young  Count  de  Pisani 
had  distinguished  himself  in  the  regiment  of 
De  Conti,  which  had  been  led  by  the  duke  and 
had  been  first  in  the  trenches  at  Fribourg.  An 
allegorical  fete  was  prepared  in  the  park  of  the 
Rochers  de  Rambouillet,  and,  as  was  the  taste 
of  the  day,  Julie  and  her  sister,  and  a  train  of 
young  ladies,  dressed  as  nymphs,  welcomed  him 
to  a  Temple  of  Fame  erected  for  the  occasion, 
and  where  in  songs  and  dances  they  celebrated 
the  hero  of  the  hour  and  his  companions  in  arms. 

These  entertainments  were  followed  by  a  grand 
supper,  and  a  good  many  silly  practical  jokes 
—  such  as  forcing  on  Voiture  and  other  of 
the  guests  dishes  which  they  were  known  to 
dislike;  sewing  up  their  vests  or  coats,  and 
persuading  the  owners  that  something  derang- 
ing to  health  must  have  happened  to  them  — 
vulgarity  which  contrasts  very  strongly  with  the 
rather  stilted  tone  of  refinement,  the  intellectual 
pursuits,  the  strict  etiquette,  and  chivalric  man- 
ners of  the  famous  salon  bleu.  Such  amusements 
were  the  yet  lingering  traces  of  the  coarse  mirth 
that  prevailed  in    the    court    of    Henry   IV.  and 


234  OLD   PARIS 

Marie  de  Medicis.  But  it  is  surprising  to  meet 
with  them  at  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet ;  as 
disgust  at  the  grossness  and  boisterous  hilarity 
of  the  court  had  driven  the  marquise  to  forsake 
it  in  her  early  years,  and  to  form  for  herself 
a  society  apart.*  We  are  told  by  Tallemant 
that  even  with  the  marquis  himself,  ^^  elle  vivait 
wi pen  trop  en  ceremojiie"  and  the  same  authority 
ascribes  the  buffoonery  we  occasionally  hear  of 
at  Rambouillet  to  Voiture,  who  was  no  great  fa- 
vourite with  him,  but  whom  he  describes  as 
"/^  pkre  de  Vingenieuse  badineriey  Voiture, 
who  had  a  superabundance  of  animal  spirits,  may 
therefore  be  supposed  to  have  introduced  these 
pranks — for  which  indeed  he  often  underwent 
unpleasant,  if  silly  chastisements ;  but  for  his 
liveliness  and  wit  he  was  not  only  tolerated  but 
courted  and  flattered. 

Very  different,  however,  from  the  boyish  freaks 
of  Voiture,  the  academical  discussions,  the  songs 
and  dances  and  madrigals  of  the  ladies,  and  the 
Italian  sonnets  for  which  Menage  was  then  famous, 
were  the  entertainments  that  were  sometimes  un- 
expectedly offered  to  the  Jmbitnes  of  the  salon 
bleiL.     One  such  occurred  on  an  evening  when  a 

*  Courtiers  frequented  the  salons  of  the  marquise,  but  her 
abhorrence  of  Louis  XIII.  was  so  great  that  she  could  never 
be  induced  to  attend  the  few  ballets  and  files  which  the  par- 
simony of  the  king  permitted.  Julie  d'Angennes  used  some- 
times to  say,  "  fai  peur  que  l^aversion  que  ma  mire  a  pour 
le  roi  ne  lafisse  damner." 


THE   YOUNG  HERO  AIVD  HiS  FAMILY      235 

very  large  and  distinguished  party  had  assembled  ; 
for  the  Due  d'Enghien  was  there,  and  just  then 
wherever  the  young  hero  was  known  to  be,  there 
thronged  the  beau  monde,  to  compliment  and  flatter, 
and  some  even  to  look  at  him.  For  he  had  burst 
upon  the  world  as  a  great  general  when  it  was 
supposed  that  he  had  gone  to  the  wars  but  to  take 
his  '^  bapteme  de  feu''  under  the  surveillance  of 
the  Marechal  de  I'Hopital.  With  the  duke  was 
the  Prince  de  Conti — his  brother,  and  three  years 
his  junior ;  both  were  in  close  attendance  on  their 
brilliant  sister,  to  whom  they  were  devotedly 
attached.  Monsieur  le  Prince  and  Madame  la 
Princesse  were  also  present  to  enjoy  the  triumph 
of  their  son  and  daughter,  and  with  them  was  the 
young  Duchess  d'Enghien  —  the  least  considered 
of  the  group,  a  quiet  little  person,  '^  sans  esprit," 
whose  husband  was  distractedly  in  love  with 
Mademoiselle  de  Vigeau. 

All  the  beauty  of  the  Conde  family  was  pos- 
sessed by  the  princess  and  her  daughter.  Madame 
de  Motteville  describes  the  duke  as  having  "  a 
long,  thin,  and  ill-shaped  face,  an  aquiline  nose, 
lively  blue  eyes,  and  a  haughty  expression  of 
countenance,  a  large  and  very  disagreeable  mouth 
with  projecting  teeth,  yet  with  something  grand 
and  proud  in  his  face,  bearing  a  resemblance  to 
the  eagle.  To  look  well,"  she  says,  "he  should 
have  been  more  carefully  dressed,  curled  and 
powdered."     He  was  not  above  the  middle  height. 


236  OLD   PARIS 

His  figure  was  good,  and  "though  he  expressed 
some  contempt  for  dancing,  he  danced  well,"  ma- 
dame  says,  "and  with  a  very  agreeable  air."  The 
Prince  de  Conti  was  a  little  humpbacked  youth. 

But  while  young  Mars  and  his  sister  Venus 
were  graciously  acknowledging  the  congratula- 
tory speeches,  the  profound  homage,  the  eager 
recognitions  that  met  them  on  all  sides,  the 
Marquis  de  Feuquieres  entered  the  salon  accom- 
panied by  a  youth  of  sixteen  or  seventeen  wearing 
the  dress  of  an  abbe.  On  presenting  him  to 
Madame  de  Rambouillet  as  a  young  friend  in 
whom  he  was  much  interested,  he  mentioned 
that  he  had  chosen  and  already  entered  upon  an 
ecclesiastical  career,  from  having  an  extraordinary 
facility  for  extemporaneous  speaking,  and  giving 
promise  of  becoming  a  great  preacher.  This 
being  whispered  about,  a  general  desire  was  ex- 
pressed to  hear  a  sermon  from  this  youth,  the 
subject  of  which  should  be  determined  by  putting 
some  texts  in  a  bag,  and  the  first  that  came  to 
hand  presented  to  him.  Some  objection  was 
taken  to  the  proposal  by  Madame  de  Rambouillet 
—  a  sermon  in  a  salon  ! — a  salon  where  through- 
out the  evening  sonnets  had  been  sung  or  recited 
in  praise  of  military  glory  ;  where  Voiture  had  but 
just  concluded  a  complimentary  address  in  verse 
(impromptu  of  course)  in  honour  of  the  hero  of 
the  day.  That  it  should  be  followed  by  a  sermon 
appeared  to  her  a  startling  incongruity. 


A   SERMON  AT  RAMBOUILLET  237 

But  the  company  generally  was  of  a  different 
opinion,  and  the  young  duke  also  expressing  a 
wish  to  hear  the  sermon  if  Monsieur  I'Abbe  him- 
self did  not  object  to  preach  it,  the  marquise  gave 
way,  remarking  only  that  it  was  very  near  mid- 
night. This  objection  being  also  overruled,  and 
the  young  abbe  and  his  friend  assenting  to  the 
request  of  the  company,  the  ladies  laid  aside  their 
coquettish  airs  and  graces  —  which  they  could 
readily  do,  being  accustomed  to  go  to  mass  before 
dressing  for  a  ball  or  on  leaving  one  fete  to  fill 
up  the  interval  between  that  and  another  —  and 
arranged  their  faces,  after  a  few  sly  smiles  and 
glances  at  their  cavaliers,  for  the  sermon.  At 
the  further  end  of  the  suite  of  salons  was  a  kind 
of  dai's,  or  raised  floor,  on  which  stood  the  spinet, 
which  was  removed,  that  the  young  abbe  might 
with  better  effect  speak  to  his  brilliant  congre- 
gation, and  be  also  better  heard  and  seen  by 
them  from  a  slight  elevation.  The  text  was 
selected  as  proposed.  A  lady  drew  forth  a  slip 
of  paper  and  presented  it  to  the  preacher  — 
"Vanity  of  vanities;  all  is  vanity."  The  young 
man  read  it,  then  glanced  with  a  peculiar  smile  on 
the  beplumed  and  bejewelled  grandes  dames  and 
their  cavaliers,  who  were  seating  themselves  in 
the  chairs  that  had  been  arranged  in  a  wide  half- 
circle  round  the  dais. 

Chance  had  supplied  an  appropriate  text.  The 
young  preacher  was  accorded  a  quarter  of  an  hour 


238  OLD  PARIS 

for  preparation,  which  he  declined.  Some  of  the 
more  frivolous  of  the  company  scarcely  could 
suppress  laughter,  as  he  stepped  on  the  dafs. 
But  the  deep,  calm,  grave  voice  of  the  young  man, 
as  in  simple  but  eloquent  words  he  pronounced 
the  exordium,  soon  commanded  attention.  "  At- 
tention became  interest ;  the  salon  was  forgotten, 
and  the  '  Ave  Maria '  said  as  devoutly  as  in  Notre 
Dame."  He  then  proceeded  to  unfold  before 
them  all  the  scenes  of  the  great  drama  of  life, 
"  Qiiest-cc  que  la  vie?  —  qn'est-ce  que  VJiomme?" 
etc.  One  would  not  venture  to  follow  him 
through  the  different  parts  of  his  sermon,  even 
had  the  discourse  been  preserved.  It  is  said  to 
have  been  a  long  one,  but  its  length  was  not 
regarded  ;  for  the  preacher,  wrapped  in  his  sub- 
ject, carried  his  auditors  with  him,  as  he  spoke  of 
the  fleeting  things  of  earth,  and  of  death,  and 
the  tomb  ;  then,  turning  from  the  sepulchre, 
pointed  to  heaven  and  the  glories  of  eternity. 

The  profound  silence  that  had  reigned  through- 
out the  discourse  continued  even  for  a  few 
minutes  after  the  preacher  had  concluded,  so  deep 
was  the  impression  he  had  made.  Pulpit  elo- 
quence was  then  almost  unknown.  His  poetic 
fervour  and  powerful  words  had  fallen  on  ears 
accustomed  to  the  dryness  and  pedantry  with 
which  the  truths  of  religion  were  then  invariably 
set  forth.  The  great  preachers  of  the  seventeenth 
century  had  not  yet  appeared.     The  first  of  them 


Bo00uet 


DEBUT  OF  A    GREAT  ORATOR  239 

was  heard  that  night  in  the  salons  of  Rambouillet. 
M.  de  Feuquieres  hastened  to  embrace  his  protege, 
and  the  company  gathered  round  him  to  express 
their  admiration  and  thanks.  No  one  had  asked 
his  name,  and,  in  truth,  no  one,  until  this  triumph 
was  achieved,  had  cared  to  know  it.  It  was  but  a 
plebeian  one,  and  had  served,  with  his  then  pro- 
vincial air,  for  a  poor  jest  to  the  idle  young  nobles 
who  were  supposed  to  be  studying  at  the  college  of 
Navarre,  where  he  was  himself  a  student,  lately 
arrived  from  Dijon. 

The  praises  so  lavishly  heaped  upon  him  he 
acknowledged  merely  by  a  bow.  He  was  not 
insensible  to  them,  for,  doubtless,  he  was  ambi- 
tious. Had  he  been  but  lightly  appreciated,  he 
would  have  felt  wounded  and  abashed ;  but  his 
success  had  surpassed  even  his  own  expectations, 
and  he  stood  silent,  almost  alarmed,  at  such 
sudden  renown.  The  Due  d'Enghien,  pressing 
the  young  man's  hand,  said,  ''  Monsiejir  le  predi- 
cateur,  potirrait-on  savoir  voire  nom  ?  "  "  Bossuet,* 
Monseigneur,''  he  replied.  Voiture,  who  was  stand- 
ing by,  as  he  smiled  on  the  youthful  orator,  drew 
forth  his  watch,  and,  with  an  affected  start  at  the 

*  "  Bossuet,"  signifying  an  ox  accustomed  to  the  plough,  was 
a  constant  theme  for  jest  with  the  fellow-students  of  the  young 
preacher.  As  he  never  took  any  part  in  their  recreations,  and 
had  scarcely  ever  been  seen  to  smile,  he  was  not  popular  among 
them.  He  thirsted  for  distinction,  for  glory,  and  this  "  thun- 
derer  of  the  Church''  was  a  professor  while  yet  but  a  scholar — ■ 
a  prelate  while  yet  a  subdeacon, 


240  OLD   PARIS 

lateness  of  the  hour,  declared  that  he  had  "  never 
before  heard  preaching  so  early,  or  so  late." 

There  was,  however,  one  listener  into  whose 
heart  the  eloquence  of  the  young  preacher  sent  a 
sharp  pang  of  jealousy.  He  was  a  fashionable 
abbe,  "  wi  joli  Jiomvic,  wi  cJiannant  hoinine,''  with 
a  silky  moustache  and  long  wavy  hair,  apparently 
a  young  man  of  some  eight  and  twenty  years. 
He  had  delicate  hands,  and  was  almost  as  proud 
of  them  as  Anne  of  Austria  was  of  hers  (hands 
which,  according  to  Madame  de  Motteville,  had 
"received  the  homage  of  Europe").  But  this 
gay  abbe  was  verging  on  his  fortieth  year,  not- 
withstanding his  youthful  appearance,  which  was 
the  satisfactory  result  of  the  time  and  pains  he 
expended  on  his  toilette.  He  was  an  immense 
favourite  with  the  ladies,  and  one  of  the  most 
assiduous  frequenters  of  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet. 
There  was  ease  and  elegance  in  his  manners, 
and  he  was  a  pattern  of  gallantry,  deeming  his 
character  of  abbe  and  Chanoine  of  Bayeux  not 
incompatible  with  the  sentimental  duties  and 
chivalric  title  of  " galajit  et  Jionnete  ho7mne."  He 
held  the  office  of  almoner  to  the  young  king,  and 
was  a  preacher  at  the  Louvre.  He  had  a  pension 
of  three  thousand  crowns,  and  many  unconsidered 
trifles  besides.  He  was  known,  very  well  known, 
in  his  day,  as  M.  I'Abbe  Cotin.  Moliere  and 
Boileau  have  handed  down  to  posterity  his  name, 
and  the  follies  ascribed  to  him. 


THE  ABBE  COTIN  FORESEES  A   RIVAL      24 1 

When  the  company  rose  to  congratulate  the 
young  preacher,  the  Abbe  Cotin  slipped,  unper- 
ceived,  out  of  the  salon.  He  would  not,  he  could 
not,  join  the  chorus  of  praise,  and  it  was  gall  and 
wormwood  to  him  to  listen  to  it.  He  felt  that  it 
was  praise  not  undeserved,  but  gained  by  an  effort 
far  beyond  his  own  slender  abilities  to  achieve. 
Yet  he  was  a  member  of  the  Academy,  learned  in 
Hebrew  and  Greek,  and  a  preacher  whom  the 
ladies  flocked  to  hear.  But  the  Abbe  Cotin  was 
especially  the  delight  of  the  salons ;  he  excelled 
in  the  fashionable  literary  accomplishment  of  say- 
ing and  writing  pretty  nothings  in  verse.  His 
social  reputation  was  fatal  to  him  as  a  preacher ; 
for,  with  a  view  of  pleasing  his  fair  friends,  his 
sermons  were  composed  of  pretty  platitudes  and 
soft,  honeyed  phrases.  There  was  no  vigour,  no 
force,  in  them  ;  nothing  to  prick  the  conscience, 
or  ruffle  the  self-complacency  of  the  elegant  con- 
gregation he  addressed  weekly  in  the  chapel  of 
the  Louvre. 

The  abbe  saw  in  the  young  preacher  the  prom- 
ise of  a  great  orator,  and  a  formidable  rival.  When 
he  returned  to  the  Hotel  on  the  following  evening 
the  conversation  fell  chiefly  on  the  extraordinary 
talent  of  young  Bossuet  for  extemporary  preach- 
ing. "  What  a  flow  of  words  !  What  fluency  and 
distinctness  of  utterance !  What  force  in  his  dic- 
tion, and  yet  how  polished  !  "  Rambouillet  itself 
could  detect  no  flaw  in  it.     "  Was  not  the  Abbe 


242  OLD   PARIS 

Cotin  charmed  with  the  fervour,  the  piety,  the 
impressiveness  of  this  talented  and  promising 
youth  ?  "  'T  is  la  belle  Duchesse  de  Longueville 
who  inquires,  and  insists  on  having  the  opin- 
ion of  the  abbe  to  confirm  her  own.  He  smiles, 
shrugs  his  shoulders,  caresses  his  moustache,  and 
turns  the  conversation.  In  vain  ;  the  duchess 
returns  to  the  subject.  ^^ Eh  bien,  Monsieur 
VAbbef  Very  sententiously  he  replies,  "The 
young  man  recited  remarkably  well." 

"  Recited  ! "  is  echoed  in  tones  of  surprise 
from  one  end  of  the  salon  to  the  other.  "  Re- 
cited," repeats  the  abbe,  more  emphatically  than 
before ;  then  proceeds  to  tell  his  astonished  lis- 
teners that  it  was  no  sermon  at  all,  and  to  explain 
to  them  how  a  sermon,  according  to  the  prescribed 
forms,  should  be  constructed. 

"  Monsieur  I'Abbe,  give  us  a  sermon  yourself," 
said  Corneille.  The  abb^  dislikes  Corneille,  and 
wonders  at  the  bad  taste  of  the  public  who  admire 
his  plays.  He,  therefore,  scarcely  deigns  to 
notice  his  remark.  But  the  idea  finds  favour, 
and  the  ladies  request  a  sermon,  the  subject  to  be 
chosen,  as  on  the  previous  evening,  by  chance. 
The  Due  d'Enghien  is  also  urgent  for  a  sermon, 
and  M.  de  Montausier  supports  Madame  de 
Longueville's  and  Julie's  authoritative  "  Monsieur 
I'Abbe  mnst  preach  us  a  sermon."  Madame  de 
Rambouillet  seems  rather  to  object  to  this  new 
amusement  of  the  salon  bleu,  but  preparations  are 


THE   ABBE   ATTEMPTS  A    SERMON         243 

made,  as  before.  The  company  seat  themselves ; 
the  much  mortified  abbe  steps  on  the  dai's.  The 
text  is  handed  to  him,  and  a  general  inclination  to 
laugh  aloud  seizes  this  irreverent  assembly  when 
the  abbe  reads,  "  I  said  in  my  haste.  All  men  are 
liars  ;  "  for  all  apply  the  text  to  the  abbe  himself, 
who  has  contended  with  and  contradicted  every 
one  who  spoke  in  favour  of  the  student  preacher. 
The  Abbe  Cotin  had  preached  too  many  ser- 
mons, bad  or  indifferent  though  they  may  have 
been,  to  be  entirely  at  fault.  The  text  is  not  one 
he  would  have  selected  to  preach  upon  at  all, 
much  less  without  previous  preparation.  He  gets 
through  an  exordium  of  some  sort,  and  the  "  Ave 
Maria  "  is  said.  But  here  his  eloquence  comes  to 
an  end.  He  proceeds  with  a  few  disjointed 
phrases,  but  it  is  evident  he  finds  nothing  more  to 
say.  His  lady  friends  perceive  his  embarrass- 
ment. Some  are  wicked  enough  to  enjoy  it ;  but 
one,  who  takes  an  especial  interest  in  him,  is 
resolved  to  save  him.  She  utters  a  scream. 
There  is  general  confusion.  What  is  the  matter 
with  the  lady  .-•  "  Heavens  !  a  spider,  or  some- 
thing, has  run  over  her  dress,  and  she  is  always  so 
nervous."  The  sermon  is  forgotten ;  all  rush  to 
the  lady's  assistance,  and  she  is  carried  to  a  sofa, 
lamenting  that  she  should  have  interrupted  the 
strain  of  eloquence  with  which  M.  I'Abbe  was 
about  to  edify  the  company.  He  proposes  to 
return  to  the  dais,  but  his  fair  congregation  is  dis- 


244  OLD   PARIS 

posed  to  be  merciful  to  its  old-established  favour- 
ite. The  nerves  of  some  are  unstrung,  they 
declare,  by  the  fright  just  received  ;  others  think 
it  too  late  to  resume  the  discourse.  M.  de  Mon- 
tausier  says  to  his  friends,  "  Soyons  generciix,'" 
and  the  grands  seigneurs  decamp  in  a  body.  The 
abb^,  seeing  his  congregation  melting  away,  pro- 
tests that  he  is  unfairly  used.  ^^  A  dcviain,  a 
demain,  done  ! ''  he  exclaims.  But  the  Marquise 
de  Rambouillet  steps  in  and  puts  a  decided  veto 
on  all  attempts  again  to  preach  sermons  in  the 
salon  bleu. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

Old  Paris.  —  A  Leader  of  Fashion.  —  Reappears  on  the   Cours. 

—  Mdlle.  Ninon  de  Lenclos.  —  Returns  to  the  World.  ■ — 
Grief  for  the  Loss  of  her  Mother.  —  Representative  Women. 

—  Ninon's  Accomplishments.  —  Soon  Weary  of  Ram- 
bouillet.  —  The  Salon  of  Ninon.  —  Theories  of  the  Abbe 
Gedouyn.  —  The  Court  of  the  Marais.  —  The  Queen's 
Order  to  Ninon.  —  A  Pavilion  at  the  Grands  Chartreux. — 
A  Lady  of  very  high  Merit.  —  Ninon  strives  to  make  a 
Convert. 

[LD  PARIS,  in  spite  of  its  walls,  its 
bastions,  and  ditches,  its  crooked  lanes, 
gutters,  and  rubbish-heaps,  was  a  far 
pleasanter  city  in  1645  than  it  was  twenty-five 
years  before.  It  had  at  least  one  long,  lively 
street,  in  the  bean  quartier,  the  Rue  St.  Antoine, 
in  which  were  its  best  and  gayest  shops,  as  well 
as  some  of  its  finest  hotels.  Then  there  were  the 
Botanic  and  the  Tuileries  Gardens,  the  Cours  de 
la  Reine,  and  the  gardens  of  the  Place  Royale,  all 
completed  and  improved.  The  people  also  were 
in  some  degree  less  rough-mannered.  They  were 
certainly  lighter  in  spirit  and  were  looking  forward 
to  peace  and  its  results  :  increase  of  commerce 
and  increase  of  wealth.  There  was  some  im- 
provement, too,  in  the  form  and  size  of  the  car- 

24s 


246  OLD  PARIS 

riages  of  the  wealthy,  and  their  number  was 
greater.  The  calkJie,  in  which  the  ladies  now 
took  an  airing  on  the  Cours,  or  from  the  Porte 
Saint  Bernard  to  Vincennes,  was  a  less  cumbrous 
vehicle  than  had  hitherto  been  in  use,  and  with 
its  four  horses,  elaborately  painted  armorial  bear- 
ings and  showy  liveries  of  the  servants,  made  a 
dashing  appearance. 

One  of  the  best-appointed  and  most  elegantly 
adorned  of  those  still  rather  capacious  velvet-lined 
and  fringed  caleches  might  have  been  seen  amongst 
the  fashionable  throng  on  the  Cours  on  most  of 
the  fine  days  of  the  season.  Its  occupant  was  a 
lady  with  a  fair  share  of  beauty,  elegantly  dressed, 
young,  and  of  graceful  figure  ;  she  wore  embroid- 
ered Spanish  gloves,  and  carried  her  mask  in  her 
hand  —  less  careful  apparently  of  her  fine  clear 
complexion  than  were  many  ladies  less  fair  than 
herself.  She  had  fine  dark  eyes,  a  beautiful 
mouth,  and  when  she  smiled  on  any  of  the  beaux 
cavaliers  who  saluted  her  with  so  much  eagerness 
and  seemed  to  vie  with  each  for  the  honour  or 
favour  of  a  glance  of  recognition,  you  perceived 
that  she  had  beautiful  teeth,  a  personal  attraction 
which  not  every  belle  of  that  day  possessed.  The 
Rambouillet  family,  with  whom  is  Mademoiselle 
de  Scudery,  just  returned  from  Marseilles  (Georges, 
who  is  "  Gouverneur  of  the  Fort  de  Notre  Dame  de 
la  Garde,"  not  being  able  longer  to  endure  an  exile 
from  Paris),  salute  this  fair  lady,  and  Mesdames 


MDLLE.   NINON  DE   LENCLOS  247 

de  Schomburg,  De  Chevreuse,  and  other  grandes 
dames  of  the  court,  also  exchange  smiles  and  bows 
with  her. 

One  \v3M^\.y-\ooY\xig  graiid  seigneur,  young,  but 
evidently  a  person  of  great  consideration  from  the 
attention  he  attracts,  orders  his  carriage  to  be 
stopped,  and  alights  to  salute  the  fair  lady  of  the 
calkJie.  He  is  known  to  be  rather  sparing  in  his 
attentions  to  the  fair  sex.  He  disdains  to  play, 
in  this  age  of  gallantry,  the  ^' howiete  et  galant 
honune''  to  any  of  the  belles  of  the  day.  He  has 
loved  devotedly,  passionately,  a  very  beautiful  and 
amiable  girl,  and  desired  to  marry  her.  His 
family  would  not  hear  of  it  ;  it  was  deemed  tme 
me'salliaiice,  and  there  was  besides  a  manage  de 
convejtance,  which  political  reasons  also  made  very 
desirable,  then  being  adjusted  between  his  friends 
and  those  of  the  lady.  This  marriage  took  place. 
The  forsaken  fair  one  retired  to  a  convent  to  hide 
her  grief  under  the  black  veil  of  a  nun.  Her 
lover  became  moody,  and  his  temper  was  soured 
by  disappointment.  He  sought  to  forget  his  sor- 
row in  the  profession  of  arms,  and  the  fortune  of 
war  crowned  him  with  glory,  but  without  greatly 
blunting  his  regret  for  his  lost  first  love.  This 
distinguished  youth  was  the  hero  of  the  hour, 
Louis  de  Bourbon,  Due  d'Enghien,  and  the  lady 
he  has  alighted  from  his  carriage  to  salute  is  the 
celebrated  Mademoiselle  Ninon  de  Lenclos. 

He  wants  to  ask  Ninon  the  question  which  the 


248  OLD   PARIS 

whole  of  the  fashionable  world  has  been  asking  of 
late, — **  where  Mademoiselle  Ninon  has  been  hiding 
herself."  She  had  disappeared  from  the  Marais; 
her  house  in  the  Rue  des  Tournelles  had  been 
closed,  and  all  visitors  received  from  the  persons 
in  charge  the  same  reply,  "  Mademoiselle  Ninon 
was  away,  and  it  was  not  known  when  she  would 
return."  It  was  whispered  about  that  she  had 
retired  to  the  convent  of  the  Carmelites,  previous 
to  taking  the  veil.  Few  gave  credence  to  this 
report ;  those  who  believed  they  well  understood 
her  character,  shook  their  heads  and  smiled. 

"It  was  contrary  to  Ninon's  known  principles," 
they  said, — "  principles  founded  on  the  philosophy 
of  Montaigne,  of  whom,  and  his  imitator,  Charon, 
she  was  a  constant  and  an  ardent  student." 

Her  devoted  and  life-long  friend.  Saint  fivre- 
mond,  when  questioned,  replied  gravely,  "that  a 
family  affliction,  which  had  deeply  affected  Made- 
moiselle de  Lenclos,  had  induced  her  to  seclude 
herself  for  a  time." 

The  reappearance  of  Ninon's  calkhe  on  the 
Cours  caused  as  great  a  sensation  as  would  that 
of  some  leader  of  fashion  in  "the  drive  "  or  "the 
row,"  after  being  mysteriously  missing  for  a  whole 
season.  It  was  remarked,  too,  as  in  some  sort  con- 
firming Saint  Evremond's  account,  that,  although 
dressed  with  her  usual  elegance.  Mademoiselle 
Ninon  was  in  mourning  —  deep  mourning  —  rich 
black  brocade,  with  narrow  puffings  of  violet  satin, 


NINON  RETURNS    TO    THE    WORLD         249 

and  ruffles  dindfichu  of  fine  point  lace.  Her  gloves 
were  black,  embroidered  in  violet  and  gold,  with  gold 
fringes  at  the  top,  and  attached  by  gold  tassels. 
She  was  enveloped  in  a  kind  of  hood  or  mantilla 
of  fine  black  taffetas,  fringed  with  gold  and  em- 
broidered. A  long  string  of  pearls  completed  her 
toilette ;  and  it  was  generally  agreed  that  Ninon 
had  never  looked  more  distingjiee,  or  more  charm- 
ing, though  she  was  a  little  paler  than  usual. 

She  had  not  abstained  in  her  mourning  from 
the  use  of  rouge,  which  in  those  high-rouging  days 
was  frequently  the  mode  in  which  fashionable 
grief  was  displayed,  for  Ninon  never  wore  rouge. 
Anne  of  Austria  had  rouged  to  excess  until  the 
death  of  Louis  XIII.,  but  had  then  discarded  its 
use  altogether.  Many  ladies  were  endeavouring, 
as  was  their  duty,  to  follow  her  example ;  but 
having  dyed  their  skins  yellow  by  long  use  of 
paint,  they  now  needed  it  to  hide  in  some  measure 
the  defects  it  had  caused.  The  bloom  had  tem- 
porarily faded  from  Ninon's  cheek  from  excessive 
grief  for  the  death  of  her  mother,  to  whom  she 
was  devotedly  attached.  But  severe  and  extreme 
piety  *  had  led  Madame  de  Lenclos  to  separate 
herself  from  her  daughter  in  order  to  spend  the 
evening  of  her  life  in  the  austere  practices  of 
religion. 

Ninon  mourned  her  loss  deeply,  and  some  feel- 
ing of  self-reproach  led  her  to  retire  to  a  convent 

*  "Vie  de  Ninon  de  Lenclos."     A  de  Brot. 


250  OLD  PARIS     . 

in  the  Faubourg  Saint  Honore,  with  the  intention 
of  giving  up  the  world.  She  declined  to  receive 
any  of  her  friends,  and  only  after  repeated  en- 
treaties and  refusals,  Saint  Evremond  obtained  per- 
mission to  see  her.  He  strove  then  to  wean  her 
from  her  purpose  of  adopting  a  course  he  believed 
she  would  repent  of  when  the  first  anguish  of 
grief  had  subsided ;  and  at  length  prevailed  on 
her  to  return  to  the  world,  which  he  felt  per- 
suaded was  not  yet  altogether  odious  to  her. 

Ninon  de  Lenclos,  who,  like  Madeleine  de 
Scudery,  lived  through  the  greater  part  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  represents,  also  like  her,  a 
phase  of  its  society.  Madame  de  Rambouillet, 
la  Duchesse  de  Longueville,  la  Marquise  de  Sable, 
each  in  her  sphere  represents  another,  and  each 
with  a  prevailing  influence  that  led  to  the  social 
supremacy  of  woman  in  France.  Ninon  was  not 
of  obscure  birth  ;  her  father  was  a  man  of  fair 
property,  and  of  some  culture.  His  philosophical 
views  he  instilled  into  the  mind  of  his  daughter. 
Plato  was  his  oracle,  and,  together  with  Mon- 
taigne, became  hers.  Her  mother,  as  a  devotee, 
loved  seclusion,  but  her  father,  well  received  him- 
self, was  able  to  introduce  Ninon  into  the  best 
society  of  the  Marais  and  to  the  Rambouillet 
circle.  She  was  an  only  child,  and  the  property 
she  derived  from  her  family,  and  which  she  came 
into  possession  of  at  an  early  age,  she  managed 
with  great  ability  and  judgment.      It  enabled  her  to 


NINON'S  ACCOMPLISHMENTS  25  I 

purchase  a  good  house  in  the  Rue  des  Tournelles 
(then  one  of  the  most  frequented  in  Paris),  and  to 
live  in  comfort  and  ease  —  almost  in  affluence. 

Her  education  was  far  superior  to  that  of  most 
women  of  the  time.  Her  mother  would  have  had 
her  brought  up  and  taught  in  a  convent ;  her 
father  considered  that  ignorant  nuns  must  be 
incompetent  teachers,  therefore  gave  her  for  in- 
structors the  best  professors  he  could  obtain. 
She  acquired  Spanish  and  Italian,  which  then 
threatened  to  displace  French  at  the  court,  and 
was  acquainted  with  the  works  of  the  best  writers 
in  those  languages,  as  well  as  in  French.  In 
dancing,  the  great  accomplishment  of  the  day,  she 
excelled,  and  she  sang  pleasingly  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  her  lute.  Introduced  at  Rambouillet 
at  about  the  age  of  seventeen  (she  was  born  in 
1 61 6),  her  acquirements,  her  liveliness,  her  bright, 
sunny  temper,  her  ingenuous  and  amiable  charac- 
ter, even  more  than  her  beauty,  secured  her  at 
once  many  friends. 

She  may  have  acquired  there  the  "art  of 
conversing  well ; "  for  we  are  told  of  the  bril- 
liancy of  her  conversational  powers  as  well  as 
of  her  exquisite  manners  and  enchanting  smile, 
her  tact,  and  penetration  into  character.  Her 
admiring  biographer,  M.  de  Brot,  sums  up  her 
perfections  in  the  words,  "  Fcmmc  inimitable  en 
tout,  et  que  sons  le  rtgne  merveillcnx  de  Lonis 
XIV.    fixa    les    yenx    des    adorateurs    dn    nierite 


252  OLD   PARIS 

distmguey  Acting,  however,  on  the  principles 
of  her  favourite,  Montaigne,  who  loved  ease  and 
independence,  and  was  an  enemy  to  all  constraint, 
she  soon  wearied  of  Rambouillet.  She  liked  its 
refinements,  its  elegant  surroundings  and  amuse- 
ments ;  but  characterized  its  learned  discussions 
as  erudition  shJie  et  sterile ;  and  the  sentimental 
servitude  and  chivalric  gallantry  exacted  by  the 
ladies  of  the  salon  bleu  from  their  "  arnants  inoffen- 
sifs  "  or  humble  servants,  "  les  honnetes  et  galants 
homines,"  she  termed  ''affectations  vie'taphysiques." 
The  notions  of  the  advanced  ladies  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  are  in  some  respects  those  professed 
by  Ninon  de  Lenclos  in  the  seventeenth.  ''Je 
vois,''  she  said,  ''que  les  hommes  nous  ont  charge  de 
ce  qiiil  a  de  plus  frivole,  et  qu'ils  se  sont  reservi 
le  droit  aiix  qualitcs  csseiitielles.  C'est  tine  injustice  ; 
de  ce  moviejit  je  me  fais  homme."  Thus  emanci- 
pated, she  opened  a  salon  of  her  own.  Unmeaning 
compliments,  affected  sentimentality,  and  long, 
pompous  dissertations  on  Greek  and  Roman  his- 
tory, were  prohibited  there.  A  tone  of  good 
breeding  was  to  prevail  at  her  receptions ;  any 
breach  of  the  manners  of  polite  society  excluded 
the  offender.  Conversation  and  music,  the  recita- 
tion of  poems,  the  reading  of  new  works,  were  to 
form  the  evening's  amusement,  and  wit,  genius 
and  talent  were  peculiarly  welcome  to  her.  Her 
aim  was  to  create  a  Rambouillet  on  a  smaller 
scale,  and  to  free  it  from  the  restraints  imposed 


THE  SALON  OF  NINON  253 

by  etiquette  which  she  considered  excessive  and  a 
barrier  to  enjoyment. 

Very  soon  no  receptions  were  more  numerously 
and  brilliantly  attended  than  Mademoiselle  Ninon's. 
Her  natural  grace  and  elegance,  her  unaffected 
charm  of  manner,  her  winning  smile  and  gentle 
voice,  were  too  often,  perhaps,  fatally  captivating, 
but  never  failed  immediately  to  interest  in  her 
favour  all  who  obtained  an  introduction  to  her. 
Every  writer  of  her  day  speaks  of  her  in  terms  of 
admiration, —  not  of  her  beauty  only,  but  of  the 
qualities  of  her  mind — her  wit,  her  vivacity,  her 
intellect,  her  amiability,  sincerity  in  friendship, 
and  kindness  of  heart. 

The  Abbe  Gedouyn,  the  translator  of  Quin- 
tilian  and  Pausanius,  and  the  author  of  some 
severe  strictures  on  Milton's  "Paradise  Lost," 
owed  to  Ninon's  encouragement  of  the  talent  she 
discerned  in  him  the  reputation  he  acquired  in  his 
day.  Gedouyn  was  cJianoinc  of  the  Sainte  Chapelle, 
and  greatly  devoted  to  the  study  of  the  writers  of 
antiquity.  Ninon  entered  into  this  study  with 
very  great  interest  ;  for  Gedouyn  traced  in  the 
mythological  fables  of  Paganism  emblems  of  the 
operations  of  a  Divine  power  and  an  admirable 
system  of  natural  philosophy.  These  speculations 
fascinated  the  mind  of  Ninon  ;  she  was  prone  to 
take  up  theories  of  this  nature,  and,  later  on  in 
her  life,  to  reason  and  philosophize  upon  them. 
^^ II. fallait  V entendre  dogmatiser"  says  Madame 


2  54  OLD   PARIS 

de  Sevigne.  "  C etait  une philosopJie,''  says  another 
writer,  ^^mais  7mc pJiiloscpJic  trts  aimable." 

Whatever  were  the  errors  of  Ninon,  she  was 
certainly  a  remarkable  woman,  and  a  very  dis- 
tinguished one  in  her  day.  The  opulent  society 
of  the  Marais,  the  rank  and  fashion  of  the  court, 
the  most  celebrated  of  the  beaux  esprits,  litterateurs, 
poets,  marshals  of  France,  dignitaries  of  the 
Church,  etc.,  met  in  her  salons.  Women  of  the 
highest  rank  formed  part  of  her  circle,  and  were 
on  intimate  terms  with  her.  And  why  not .''  On 
the  score  of  morals,  the  court  of  "/«  belle  dame  du 
Marais "  could  well  bear  comparison  with  the 
court  of  Anne  of  Austria ;  while,  in  point  of 
attractiveness,  the  intellectual  conversation  and 
spirituel  passe-temps  of  the  society  of  the  former 
were  far  above  comparison  with  the  dreary,  idle 
gossip  that  formed  the  chief  delight  of  the  ignorant 
and  indolent  queen-regent,  and  wearied  the  circle 
that  assembled  at  the  Palais  Royal. 

No  wonder  that  the  sudden  disappearance  of 
such  a  luminary  from  its  orbit  should  have  caused 
a  sensation  in  the  world  of  fashion,  or  that  its 
shining  forth  again  in  full  splendour  should  have 
been  hailed  with  intensest  satisfaction.  But  Ninon 
did  not  immediately  after  leaving  the  convent 
re-open  her  "  painted  saloon  ; "  her  loss  was  too 
recent,  her  grief  still  too  poignant.  When  she  did 
so,  an  anecdote  relates  (anecdotes  should  always 
be  received  with  suspicion)  that  the  increase  in 


THE   QUEEN'S   ORDER    TO   NINON         255 

her  circle  was  so  great,  owing  to  the  numerous 
new  introductions  —  or,  as  they  should  perhaps  be 
termed,  presentations,  for  there  was  some  cere- 
moniousness  observed  on  such  occasions  —  that 
much  jealousy  was  felt  in  rival  salons,  where 
there  was,  in  consequence,  a  great  falling  off  in 
the  attendance.  It  was  resolved  to  mention 
the  circumstance  to  the  queen.  "  Cettc  Ninon,'' 
she  was  told,  "  had,  by  her  seductive  arts,  at- 
tracted to  her  house  all  the  grands  seigneurs  of 
the  court,  and  the  most  desirable  partis  in  the 
kingdom." 

The  queen-regent  was  shocked  —  nay,  alarmed 
—  to  hear  of  the  arts  of  "  the  bewitching  philoso- 
pher of  the  Marais;  "  for  to  her  philosophy  meant 
diablerie,  and  her  piety  at  once  took  fright.  Im- 
mediately she  despatched  an  officer  of  the  guard 
with  an  order  to  Ninon  to  retire  to  a  convent. 
She  suggested  that  of  "■  Les  fillcs  repenties,''  but 
conceded  to  her  the  liberty  of  selection.  The 
queen's  messenger  was  very  graciously  received  by 
the  culprit,  who  was  surprised  while  dining  with 
her  friends.  Saint  fivremond,  Rochefoucauld  (then 
Prince  de  Marsillac),  the  young  Huguenot  Count 
de  Coligny,  Mdme.  de  la  Sabliere,  and  Mdlle.  de 
Scudery.  She  read  the  queen's  order  to  her 
guests.  The  gentlemen  were  indignant ;  the 
ladies  astonished  and  terrified.  But  Ninon, 
treating  the  order  as  a  jest,  said  "  she  was  duly 
sensible  of  the  honour  conferred  on  her,  and  that 


256  OLD   PARIS 

she  had  no  hesitation  in  selecting  for  her  retreat 
one  of  the  pavilions  and  gardens  of  the  monastery 
of  the  '  Grands  Chartreux,'*  if  her  choice  met 
with  approval." 

The  ofificer,  presuming  on  the  general  affability, 
and  not  infrequent  undignified  familiarity  of  the 
queen,  ventured  to  repeat,  with  a  smile,  Mademoi- 
selle Ninon's  exact  reply.  But  Anne  was  horri- 
fied, and  exclaimed  angrily,  "  Lc  monastkre  des 
Grands  Chartreux!  mats,  la  vilainc!'' 

The  captain  of  les  gardes,  M.  de  Gentaut,  who 
was  a  friend  of  Ninon,  perceiving  that  the  queen 
was  really  displeased,  stepped  forward  and  assured 
her  that  "  Mademoiselle  de  Lenclos's  answer  could 
have  been  no  message  intended  for  her  majesty. 
It  was  mere  badinage,  in  reply  to  an  order  she 
probably  had  treated  as  a  joke,  as  she  was  a 
lady  held  in  great  consideration,  and  deservedly 
so,  from  her  many  attractions  and  estimable 
qualities." 

The  testimony  of  M.  de  Gentaut  was  confirmed 
by  M.  de  Voiture  and  other  gentlemen  who  were 
present,  and  a  few  of  the  ladies.  The  queen,  who 
had  begun  to  fear  that  she  would  be  troubled  to 
take  further  steps  in  the  matter,  lent  a  gracious  and 

*  This  monastery  occupied  an  immense  extent  of  ground.  Its 
founder  was  Saint  Louis.  Each  monk  had  a  separate  pavilion, 
which,  with  the  numerous  outbuildings  of  the  monastery,  the 
extensive  gardens,  and  spacious  church,  formed  almost  a  small 
town.     The  space  is  now  covered  with  houses  and  streets. 


A   LADY  OF   VERY  HIGH  MERIT  257 

willing  ear  to  the  praises  of  Ninon,  complaining 
only  of  having  been  importuned  by  the  criailleries 
of  the  envious  to  offer  an  affront  to  a  lady  of  such 
very  high  merit  —  a  lady  possessing  the  esteem  of 
'^  les  plus  grands  seignciivs  de  la  coiir,''  and  even 
honoured  with  the  friendship  of  the  severely  vir- 
tuous Due  d'Enghien,  the  cynical  Prince  de  Mar- 
sillac  (then  in  great  favour  with  Anne),  and,  above 
all,  by  that  of  M.  de  Voiture  and  the  learned 
ladies  of  the  "  societe  polie  de  F Hotel  de  Ram- 
bouillety  And  so  Ninon  received  no  further 
order  to  "  go  to  a  nunnery  —  go."  "  Le  fnoyen," 
says  Madame  de  Sevigne,  on  another  and  later 
occasion,  "  de  nitre  pas  Jlattee  de  Pes  time  de  M.  le 
Prince,  d^aiitant  plus  qiiil  ne  la  jette  pas  a  la  tete 
des  dames y 

Another  circumstance  also  told  greatly  with 
the  queen  in  favour  of  Ninon.  It  was  known  that 
she  had  long  set  her  heart  on  converting  her 
Huguenot  lover,  De  Coligny.  Anne  of  Austria 
of  course  attributed  this  to  religious  zeal ;  but, 
unfortunately,  Ninon  would  have  been  satisfied 
with  his  formal  abjuration  of  Protestantism,  with- 
out any  real  renunciation  of  faith  in  its  doctrines. 
Coligny  was  ambitious,  and  that  opportunities  of 
distinguishing  himself  might  more  readily  be 
afforded  him,  she  employed  all  her  powers  of  per- 
suasion to  draw  him  into  the  flock  of  "  the  faith- 
ful." She  did  not  prevail,  perhaps  because  she 
argued  in  favour  of  disingenuousness  and  against 


258  OLD  PARIS 

her  own  principles  ;  for,  according  to  her  guiding 
system  of  philosophy,  she  professed  to  hold  false- 
hood and  deceit  in  abhorrence.  She,  however, 
gained  with  the  queen  some  additional  credit  — 
which  probably  she  would  have  been  unwilling 
herself  to  accept  —  for  her  attempt  to  convert 
Coligny,  whom  her  majesty  pitied  for  his  blind- 
ness and  obstinacy. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

The  Convent  of  Val  Profond.  —  The  Abbey  of  Val  de  Grace.  — 
Mansard's  Original  Design.  —  Education  of  the  Young 
Princes.  —  Lamothe  Le  Vayer.  —  A  Princely  Education.  — 
Two  Terrible  Turks.  —  The  Duties  of  Piety.  —  The  Royal 
Brothers. —  The  Court  at  Fontainebleau.  —  The  Swedish 
Ambassador.  —  The  Daughter  of  the  "  Ice-King."  —  Car- 
tesian Philosophy.  —  The  Ambassador  Perplexed.  —  His 
Troubled  Spirit  Soothed. 

/OON  after  Anne  of  Austria  had  aban- 
doned the  Louvre,  and  made  the  Palais 
Royal  her  residence,  she  set  about  the 
accomplishment  of  her  vow  to  found  a  religious 
house  as  a  thank-offering  to  God  for  the  birth  of 
a  son.  She  had  already  established,  in  the  Fau- 
bourg Saint  Jacques,  the  Benedictine  nuns  of  the 
convent  of  Val  Profond  ;  but  as  the  sympathy  of 
Louis  XIII.  was  not  with  her  in  her  project,  its  full 
realization  was  necessarily  deferred.  The  original 
plans  for  the  magnificent  church  and  abbey  of 
Val  de  Grace  were  prepared  by  Frangois  Mansard, 
under  whose  superintendence  the  building  was 
begun.  Louis  XIV.  laid  the  first  stone  of  the 
church.  He  was  seven  years  old  when  this,  his 
first  public  act,  was  performed.  Some  cabal 
against   Mansard  caused   him  to  discontinue  the 

259 


26o  OLD   PARIS 

work  ;  alterations  were  introduced  into  his  designs, 
and  four  other  architects  completed  the  edifice. 
The  whole  of  the  elaborate  decorations  had  refer- 
ence to  the  birth  of  Christ,  and  were  intended  to 
convey  allusions  to  that  of  Louis  XIV.  The 
fresco  paintings  of  the  cupola  were  by  Mignard. 
They  contain  two  hundred  figures,  representing 
the  various  orders  of  saints  adorin-g  the  Trinity, 
and,  in  the  midst,  the  queen  and  Saint  Louis  offer- 
ing to  the  Deity  the  model  of  the  church  of  Val 
de  Grace. 

The  paintings  of  the  communion  chapel  were 
by  Philippe  de  Champaigne.  The  magnificent 
sculptures  of  the  dome  were  by  Michel  Anguier, 
an  artist  of  great  talent.  The  French  excelled 
in  sculpture,  as  the  beautiful  work  of  the  six- 
teenth and  seventeenth  centuries  in  the  Louvre 
attests,  and  that  still  existing  in  churches,  in 
the  few  remaining  hotels  of  the  noblesse,  and 
even  here  and  there  in  some  house  of  less  pre- 
tensions, which  has  hitherto  wholly,  or  in  part, 
escaped  destruction.  The  celebrated  group  of 
"  La  Creche,"  now  in  the  church  of  Saint  Roch, 
belonged  to  the  church  of  Val  de  Grace ;  it 
stood  under  the  baldachin,  and  was  considered 
the  chcf-cfojuvrc  of  the  sculptor,  Frangois  Anguier. 
This  beautiful  church  was  used  as  a  warehouse 
from  the  time  of  the  revolution  until  1826;  the 
abbey  was  transformed  into  a  military  hospital. 
Francois   Mansard,  its    first    architect,    on    being 


EDUCATION  OF    THE   YOUNG   PRINCES     26 1 

deprived  of  the  superintendence  of  the  building 
of  the  edifice,  erected  for  M.  de  Guenegaud,  at 
his  Chateau  de  Fresne,  a  small  chapel,  a  hijo7i  of 
its  kind,  representing,  in  miniature,  the  original 
design  of  the  church  of  Val  de  Grace. 

But  while  Anne  of  Austria's  sumptuous  thank- 
offering  to  God  was  rapidly  advancing  towards 
completion,  the  child  whose  birth  had  called 
forth  this  pious  gratitude  was  growing  up  neg- 
lected and  ignorant.  Education  of  some  kind 
was  needful  for  the  king  and  his  brother,  and 
this  caused  her  very  great  embarrassment. 
While  infants,  she  had  expressed  an  intention 
of  having  them  "instructed  in  every  science;" 
a  few  years  later  she  was  in  doubt  whether  the 
sciences  were  an  appropriate  study  for  princes, 
and  was  inclined  to  think  Latin  more  worthy 
the  attention  of  youthful  royalty.  History,  or 
geography,  she  had  no  idea  of  herself ;  it  there- 
fore never  occurred  to  her  that  it  was  needful  to 
burden  the  brain,  or  weary  attention  by  acquir- 
ing the  knowledge  of  any  history  except  the 
historiettes  and  intrigues  of  the  court.  She 
believed  that  Mazarin  was,  of  all  men  in  Europe, 
the  most  able,  the  most  learned,  and  the  most 
spiritiiel ;  therefore,  the  most  competent  to 
decide  on  the  course  of  study  best  adapted  for 
her  sons.  To  his  tender  mercies,  therefore,  she 
left  them. 

Mazarin    chose  first,  for  the  post  of  governor 


262  OLD    PARIS 

to  the  young  king,  the  Marquis  de  Villeroi. 
He  had  held  high  command  in  the  army,  was 
supposed  to  be  well  acquainted  with  the  interior 
condition  of  the  kingdom  —  knowledge  then  pos- 
sessed but  by  few  —  and  to  have  some  ability 
as  a  statesman.  Villeroi  desired  the  rank  of 
Marechal  de  France,  and  received  it,  together 
with  his  appointment  of  governor.  It  was  not, 
however,  for  his  merits  that  it  was  conferred, 
but  to  ensure  his  acquiescence  in  the  views  of 
Mazarin.  For  preceptor,  he  selected  Beaumont 
de  Perefixe,  Archbishop  of  Paris,  and  the  author 
of  the  most  attractively  written  life  extant  of 
Henry  IV.  It  was  intended  for  the  edification 
of  his  pupil,  and  is  a  pleasing  but  fanciful  por- 
trait of  the  dissolute  monarch,  the  roistering 
vaurien,  whose  failings,  if,  according  to  the  arch- 
bishop, he  had  any,  were  but  "  les  faiblesses  d'tm 
homme  aimable." 

As  the  duties  of  M.  de  Perefixe  were  almost 
nominal,  the  young  king  received  for  the  first 
year  such  casual  instruction  as  M.  Lamothe  le 
Vayer,  who  had  been  named  preceptor  to 
Philippe,  the  king's  brother,  had  inclination  or 
time  to  impart  to  him.  Le  Vayer  was  a  man 
of  much  talent,  engaged  in  abstruse  literary  and 
scientific  studies.  Among  the  learned  he  gained 
some  reputation  by  his  work  on  "La  vertu  des 
Paiens,"  in  which  he  strove  to  confute  the 
idea,    then    prevalent,    that    the    morality    of   the 


LA  MO  THE   LE    VAYER  26  T, 

modern,  or  Christian  world,  was  of  a  higher 
tone  than  that  which  predominated  amongst  the 
pagan  nations  of  antiquity — a  task  of  no  great 
difficulty  then,  or  even  in  this  virtuous  age,  one 
would  imagine. 

Le  Vayer  soon  discovered  that  Louis  was 
far  less  intelligent  than  his  younger  brother 
Philippe,  and,  on  the  education  of  the  former 
being  transferred  to  the  charge  of  another  pre- 
ceptor, was  disposed  really  to  interest  himself 
in  developing  the  talent  he  believed  he  had  dis- 
cerned in  his  youthful  pupil.  But  the  watchful 
eye  of  Mazarin  was  upon  him.  The  ruse 
cardinal's  design  was  that  both  brothers  should 
receive  "a  princely  education."  That  of  the 
one  destined  to  ascend  the  throne  was  to  be 
''monarchical  and  Catholic;"  which  meant  that, 
before  all  things,  it  was  to  be  constantly  im- 
pressed upon  him  that  he  was  a  king,  therefore 
"  a  being  essentially  superior  to  other  men." 
"  Qu!/  doit  avow  pour  but  la  glorie  et  poitr  may  en 
la  force ;  que  la  nation  reside  tonte  enti^re  dans 
la  personne  du  monarque ;  que  les  sujets  doivent 
obeir  sans  controler  les  decrets  du  roi,''  etc. 

"  What  could  you  be  thinking  of,"  said 
Mazarin  to  Le  Vayer,  "  when  you  proposed  to 
make  a  clever  man  of  the  king's  brother  1  If 
he  had  more  learning  than  the  king,  would  he 
not  be  able  often  to  put  him  to  the  blush,  and 
would  he  then   be  disposed  to  obey  him.'" 


264  OLD  PARIS 

Such  are  the  base  and  narrow  views  attributed 
to  Mazarin,  and  the  conduct  of  the  king  and  his 
brother  in  manhood  was  the  natural  result  of 
such  a  system.  Villeroi,  when  he  became 
thoroughly  initiated  into  Mazarin's  views,  ex- 
pressed much  regret  that  he  had  not  sooner 
been  aware  of  them,  and  is  said  to  have  endeav- 
oured, in  some  measure,  to  counteract  them  by 
engaging  the  young  king  in  conversation,  and 
in  that  way  interesting  him  in  things  it  was 
desirable  he  should  be  instructed  in.  The 
princes  were  not  even  taught  to  read  until 
they  had  become  so  thoroughly  idle  and  indis- 
posed for  study  that  there  was  no  longer  any 
fear  of  their  using  such  knowledge  to  acquire 
information  for  themselves.  They  were  left 
entirely  to  the  charge  of  sub-tutors,  who,  to 
every  remark  on  the  backwardness  or  idleness 
of  these  children,  were  always  able  to  reply  that 
"the  Superior,"  Mazarin,  "reserved  to  himself 
the  right  of  regulating  the  course  of  studies  to 
be  pursued  by  their  royal  pupils."  A  transla- 
tion of  Caesar's  "Commentaries,"  and  another 
of  Florus,  were  published  in  the  names  of  the 
king  and  Philippe  d'Orleans,  though  neither  of 
them  understood  a  word  of  Latin,  nor  scarcely 
could  write  his  own  name.  Both,  then,  read 
French  with  difficulty,  and  orthography  was 
never  mastered  by  Louis  XIV. 

They    both    acquired    the    worst    habits,    from 


TWO    TERRIBLE    TURKS  265 

associating  with  the  lowest  servants  of  the 
household  —  pilfering,  scratching,  fighting,  lying, 
and  using  gross  language,  Philippe  being  by 
no  means  an  obedient  subject,  in  his  youth,  to 
his  high  and  mighty  brother.  The  education  of 
im  grand  seigneur  was  then  comprised  in  dan- 
cing, riding,  and  fencing.  If  he  knew  anything 
more,  he  owed  it  generally  to  a  natural  bent  for 
the  acquirement  of  knowledge,  rather  than  to 
facilities  afforded  him  for  obtaining  it.  Learn- 
ing was  for  the  canaille,  as  '^  la  grande  reine'' 
was  pleased  to  call  the  lawyers,  the  magistrates, 
and  others  to  whom  a  course  of  study  at  the 
university  or  colleges  was  necessary.  Hence 
the  contempt  so  long  felt  by  the  empty-headed 
grandees  for  men  of  letters,  and  which  the 
Marquise  de  Rambouillet  helped  to  abolish. 

Anne  of  Austria  was  fond  of  her  children, 
and  proud  of  their  aptitude  in  acquiring  the 
accomplishments  befitting  les  beatix  cavaliers, 
for  they  could  ride  and  dance  already,  and  were 
anxious  to  have  the  foils  in  their  hands.  Louis 
was  her  favourite,  as  the  inheritor  of  the  "  right 
divine."  She  herself  instructed  him  in  the 
duties  of  piety,  showed  him  her  collection  of 
reliques,  explained  whence  they  came,  their 
value  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  and  the  benefits 
innumerable  they  brought  down  on  their  pos- 
sessor ;  knowledge  which  she  believed  to  be  of 
far  greater  importance  to  him   than    any  that    a 


266  OLD   PARIS 

preceptor  or  tutor  could  impart.  He  learned 
very  early  the  etiquette  of  the  court,  the  pro- 
found homage  due  to  his  own  sacred  little 
person,  and  was  initiated  betimes  into  the  cere- 
monies of  "the  public  toilette,"  by  being  in- 
vested with  the  privilege  of  presenting  the 
queen's  chemise.  When  he  left  the  royal  pres- 
ence he  joined  his  brother,  even  more  neglected 
than  himself,  and  together  they  made  a  raid 
on  the  cupboards  and  store-rooms,  and  stole 
cakes,  sweets,  etc.,  which  they  ate  in  secret, 
observing,  doubtless,  no  etiquette  or  ceremony 
whatever  while  enjoying  the  fruits  of  their  joint 
petty  larceny.  Thus  these  young  princes  grew 
up  like  plants  running  to  seed,  without  care  or 
culture,  for  no  moral  restraints  were  imposed  on 
them,  no  moral  principles  inculcated  ;  but,  on 
the  contrary,  every  effort  was  made  by  the 
myrmidons  of  Mazarin  to  destroy  any  germ  of 
good  that  might  appear  in  them,  and  to  implant 
evil  in  its  stead. 

The  queen-regent's  infatuation  for  Mazarin 
cost  her  the  good  opinion  of  the  people,  and  her 
excessive  anxiety  to  make  him  popular  had  but 
the  effect  of  intensifying  the  ill-feeling  with 
which  they  already  regarded  him.  There  were 
signs  of  France  being  ill  at  ease  under  the  rule 
of  one  who  was  often  called  "  le  serpent  qui 
avait  succede  an  tigre ;''  there  were  indications 
in   another    country    of   a    people    being    roused 


THE    COURT  AT  FONTAINEBLEAU         267 

to  rebellion  by  tyranny,  and  a  threatening  of 
revolt  against  the  oppression  of  rulers  becoming 
epidemic  in  Europe.  This  was  displeasing  to 
Anne;  it  occasioned  anxiety,  disturbed  the  even 
tenour  of  her  life.  All  had  gone  smoothly  since 
her  accession  to  power  ;  life  had  glided  on,  day 
succeeded  day  in  a  delightfully  pleasant  if  some- 
what monotonous  round.  She  resolved  to  change 
the  scene,  and  to  seek  undisturbed  quiet  at 
Fontainebleau. 

The  principal  change  in  the  daily  programme 
was  that  the  queen  and  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
of  her  court  and  household,  after  promenading 
in  the  sand  and  dust  of  the  forest,  spent  a  few 
hours  in  the  shallow  part  of  the  Seine.  The 
princes  and  their  governor  were  of  the  party  — 
'^  La  modestie,''  says  Madame  de  Motteville, 
^^ny  etait  millement  blessee'' — for  both  ladies  and 
gentlemen  wore  grey  linen  chemises  reaching  to 
the  ground.  They  chatted  and  promenaded, 
the  conversation  being  " gaic  ct  librc,''  while  the 
more  lively  of  the  party  danced  and  sang. 

The  Comte  de  la  Gardie,  the  ambassador  of 
Queen  Christina,  followed  or  accompanied  the 
court  to  Fontainebleau.  He  appears  to  have 
taken  with  him  a  new  state  carriage  which 
Christina  had  ordered  from  the  king's  coach- 
builder  in  Paris  ;  and  while  the  bathers  were 
engaged  in  their  frolics  in  the  water,  M.  de  la 
Gardie  favoured  them  with  a  grand  spectacle  on 


268  OLD   PARIS 

the  banks  of  the  river.  The  Swedish  queen's 
coach,  in  all  the  splendour  of  new  velvet,  gold 
and  silver  fringes  and  embroidery,  and  drawn 
by  six  richly  caparisoned  horses,  attended  by 
twelve  pages  in  black  and  yellow  silver-laced 
liveries,  went  trotting  up  and  down,  followed  by 
the  ambassador  himself,  in  an  equipage  scarcely 
less  splendid  than  that  of  his  royal  mistress. 
Two  portly  coachmen,  to  match  the  size  of  the 
carriages,  as  well  as  numerous  attendants  on 
foot,  in  the  orange  and  silver  liveries  of  the 
court,  completed  this  effective  and  splendid 
"turn  out."  It  gave  the  spectators  a  high  idea  of 
the  grandeur  and  state  of  Christina  of  Sweden. 

Christina,  then  in  her  twentieth  year,  was 
celebrated  throughout  Europe  for  her  learning; 
all  the  heroic  virtues  of  the  illustrious  women  of 
antiquity  were  also  attributed  to  her,  so  that  her 
ambassador  was  readily  believed  when  he  pro- 
ceeded to  descant  on  her  extraordinary  attain- 
ments and  virtues,  as  surpassing  all  that  renown 
had  spread  abroad  concerning  them.  De  la 
Gardie  was  himself  a  personage  of  unusually  lofty 
pretensions.  Christina,  in  opposition  to  the  ad- 
vice and  entreaties  of  Oxenstierna,  had  put  the 
country  to  an  inconvenient  and  unnecessary  ex- 
pense in  sending  a  splendid  embassy  to  France, 
and,  at  the  head  of  it,  with  princely  appointments, 
this  favourite,  whom  alone  she  thought  worthy  of 
representing  a  royal  mistress  so  distinguished. 


THE   DAUGHTER    OE   THE    ''ICE- KING"     269 

"  Instead  of  making  men  die  of  love  for  her, 
as  she  might  have  done,"  so  the  count  told  the 
queen-regent  and  her  ladies,  "she  made  them 
ready  to  hang  themselves  with  shame  and  disgust 
when,  bowing  before  the  might  of  her  masculine 
intellect,  they  were  compelled  to  confess  what 
poor  weak  creatures,  in  comparison  with  her, 
they  were."  This  account  of  the  daughter  of  the 
"great  Ice-king"  was  received  by  the  fair  dames 
the  ambassador  addressed  with  profound  awe  and 
respect.  He  told  them,  further,  that  the  Swedish 
queen  had  fully  considered  Descartes's  system  of 
philosophy  and  could  not  give  it  her  approval. 

This  astonished  the  queen-regent ;  she  ex- 
pressed much  surprise  and  even  some  regret  to 
hear  it.  She,  however,  knew  nothing  of  Des- 
cartes or  his  system ;  his  philosophy  was  not  the 
rage  of  the  salons  until  several  years  later,  and 
■  at  the  time  referred  to  only  some  especially 
philosophical  blciic  belle  of  the  Rambouillet  circle 
could  have  been  interested  in  it  or  professed 
herself  a  Cartesienne.  But  Anne  had  heard  of 
another  celebrated  lady  to  whom  had  been  applied 
the  term  "learned  and  rt'w/zVz/Vt' philosopher  " — a 
lady  who,  while  willingly  receiving  homage  to  her 
intellect,  did  not  forbid  lovers  to  die  for  her. 
The  most  distinguished  of  the  grands  seig)ienrs 
and  grandes  davies  of  the  court  had  but  lately 
sung  in  chorus  the  praises  of  this  ^^ amiable  phi- 
losopher," and  —  as  the  queen  remembered  with 


270  OLD   PARIS 

satisfaction — prevented  some  indignity  from  be- 
ing offered  to  her. 

Now  Anne  of  Austria  felt  no  sympathy  what- 
ever with  the  severity  which  the  Swedish  am- 
bassador attributed  to  his  queen  as  a  merit ;  and 
on  learning  further  that  there  was  a  system  of 
philosophy  to  which  Christina  took  objection,  she 
very  naturally  thought  she  discovered  in  that  the 
cause  of  her  hardness  of  heart,  and  that,  therefore, 
it  was  much  to  be  lamented.  De  la  Gardie,  not 
comprehending  the  queen's  allusions,  began  to 
explain  the  views  of  Descartes,  in  order  to  justify 
Christina  —  his  argument  being  as  intelligible  to 
the  queen  as  a  discourse  in  Hebrew  or  Greek. 
If  etiquette  had  permitted,  both  she  and  her 
ladies  would  have  yawned  outright,  so  frightfully 
did  he  weary  them.  And  what  really  would  have 
been  the  consequence.  Heaven  only  knows — for 
the  young  count  was  mercilessly  in  earnest,  and 
denounced  with  much  energy  Descartes's  limited 
range  of  ideas,  his  too  exclusive  spirit,  his  in- 
tolerance of  discussion,  his  precipitation  and 
presumption,  his  extremely  vague  and  abstract 
principles,  and  so  forth  —  had  not  Anne  raised  her 
eyes  to  the  timepiece  that  crowned  the  high  Vene- 
tian cabinet  before  which  Ue  la  Gardie  was  standing. 
The  queen  perceived  that  the  hour  for  retiring  to 
her  oratory  had  arrived,  and  no  amusements,  or 
even  the  most  important  affairs  of  state — could  her 
presence  have  had  any  influence  on  them  —  were 


THE   AMBASSADOR   PERPLEXED  2/1 

allowed  to  interfere  with  her  stated  times  for 
devotion.  She  rose,  —  De  la  Gardie  understood 
the  signal.  In  her  usual  affable  manner,  she 
thanked  him  for  the  "amusement  he  had  afforded 
her,"  adding,  with  a  smile,  that  he  had  "quite 
convinced  her  that  philosophy  was,  after  all  that 
could  be  said  in  its  favour,  but  a  dreary  thing 
indeed." 

The  young  ambassador  bowed  low,  very  low, 
to  hide  a  certain  confusion  of  face,  and  as  Anne, 
followed  by  her  ladies,  passed  to  her  oratory,  he 
slowly  withdrew,  —  perplexed  and  annoyed  at  the 
sarcastic  tone,  as  he  conceived,  of  the  queen's 
remarks.  The  more  his  thoughts  dwelt  on  the 
subject,  the  more  he  was  troubled  in  spirit.  He 
felt  that  either  his  own  or  his  royal  mistress's 
superlative  merit  was  not  duly  appreciated  at  the 
French  court,  and  that  it  would  be  well  to  request 
his  recall.  He  was  mistaken,  at  least  so  far  as 
Christina  was  concerned,  —  she  had  to  appear  in 
person  to  dispel  the  pi'cstigc  her  name  had  ac- 
quired in  France,  and  to  prove  how  uncertain, 
how  little  to  be  relied  upon,  are  the  sounds  given 
forth  by  the  trumpet  of  renown. 

Christina  had  written  a  letter  to  the  queen- 
regent  in  French,  another  to  the  cardinal  min- 
ister, and  a  third  to  Monsieur  le  Due  d'Orleans. 
The  sentiments  she  expressed  towards  France 
had  given  great  satisfaction,  and  her  facility  in 
the  use  of  a  foreign  tongue  had  been  the  subject 


2/2  OLD   PARIS 

of  much  encomium  and  compliment.  De  la 
Gardie's  equanimity  was  restored,  and  he  re- 
ported to  his  sovereign  the  high  esteem  with 
which  her  exalted  character  and  marvellous  abili- 
ties were  regarded  at  the  French  court.  Fetes, 
balls,  and  banquets  had  been  given  in  her  honour. 
One  thing,  however,  he  was  fain  to  confess,  —  the 
queen-regent  held  opinions  which  appeared  to  him 
to  be  very  erroneous  on  the  subject  of  the  Car- 
tesian philosophy. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Musical  Art  in  its  Infancy.  —  The  Band  of  Les  Mousquetaires. — 
A  Promenade  Concert.  —  Celebrities  of  the  Court.  —  De  la 
Rochefoucauld.  —  The  French  Navy. —  Les  Beaux  Mous- 
quetaires.—  Le  Comte  de  Coligny. 

JT  the  period  we  are  writing  of,  music 
as  an  art  was  in  its  infancy  in  France. 
The  voice  of  Angehque  Paulet  may 
have  had  fatal  effects  on  envious  nightingales ; 
it  may  have  filled  other  listeners  with  wonder 
and  delight,  as  its  thrilling  tones  lent  beauty  to 
some  simple  French  or  Spanish  air,  supported, 
or  rather  accompanied,  by  the  tinkling  of  the 
graceful  and  pretty,  but  feeble  lute,  — for  this  was 
the  highest  effort  of  musical  art  then  attained 
in  the  salons,  and  to  have  accomplished  so  much 
was  to  enjoy,  as  she  did,  social  reputation  as  a 
musician.  The  theorbe  was  merely  a  lute  of 
larger  size,  and  was  sometimes  used  with  the 
violins,  which  were  greatly  in  request,  to  play 
lively  airs  to  give  animation  to  the  ballets  then 
in  vogue,  and  in  which  there  was  as  much  acting 
as  dancing.  Lulli  was  still  in  his  native  Florence, 
whence,  soon  after,  at  the  age  of  thirteen  or  four- 
teen, he  was  brought  to  France  by  the  Chevalier 

273 


274  OLD   PARIS 

de  Guise,  whom  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier 
had  asked  to  find  her  an  Italian  page. 

Military  music  one  can  scarcely  imagine  to 
have  been  very  inspiriting.  "The  music  of  a 
march,"  it  is  probable,  shed  little,  if  any,  "joy  on 
duty."  We  indeed  hear  of  the  Due  d'Enghien, 
when  about  to  besiege  Lerida,  opening  the  trenches 
to  the  accompaniment  of  a  band  of  violins,  and  we 
are  at  once  transported,  in  fancy,  to  the  bloodless 
scene  of  some  operatic  combat,  rather  than  to  the 
scene  of  war's  alarms  and  the  din  of  real  battle. 
But  who  has  not  heard  of  " Ics  beaux  moiisquctaircs'' 
—  '^  moHsquctaircs  noirs  ;  mousquctairrs  gris  ;  moiis- 
qiietaircs  de  la  reine"  ?  These  "  crack  corps  "  were 
chiefly  composed  of  very  fine  gentlemen,  but,  as 
a  rule,  iin  pen  mauvais  siijets.  They  were  as  ex- 
clusive as  the  famous  loth  —  "they  didn't  dance." 
But  they  had  a  band  of  cymbals  and  trumpets. 
There  is  a  sort  of  roughness  and  clang  to  the 
delicate  ear  even  in  the  name  of  those  instru- 
ments, and  a  band  of  such  music  would  seem  to 
be  more  likely  to  excite,  than  to  "  soothe  the 
savage  breast."  Yet  the  gallant  mousquetaires 
not  unfrequently  sent  their  band  to  the  gardens 
of  La  Place  Royale,  to  give  pleasure  to  the  many 
bright  stars  of  fashion  and  beauty  who  resided  in 
that  favourite  locale.  And  in  skilful  hands  the 
sounds  produced  by  cymbals  and  trumpets  may 
be  so  modulated  as  to  produce  a  pleasing  effect. 

At  all   events,  they  pleased  the  fair  dames  of 


CELEBRITIES   OF   THE    COURT  275 

that  day,  and  whenever  these  concerts  took  place 
the  gardens  were  thronged.  What  a  pretty  and 
picturesque  scene  to  look  down  upon  from  one 
of  the  broad  balconies  of  the  Place!  What  a 
display  of  feathers  and  lace,  long  strings  of  un- 
wrought  pearls  and  silken  stuffs !  what  a  variety 
of  colours,  bright  as  the  flowers  in  the  parterres ! 
How  graceful  the  hoods  and  hongrelines,  and 
what  elaborate  coiffures!  All  those  frizzings 
and  curlings,  rouleaux,  ribands,  and  lappets  must 
need  much  time  and  skill  to  erect  and  rightly 
arrange.  But  time  was  of  small  account  then. 
Dressing  and  gambling,  and  being  adored  com- 
prised the  whole  duty  of  woman,  and  there  was 
plenty  of  time  for  that.  The  dresses  are  really 
superb.  ^^  Les  dames  de  qualitc,''  says  Sauval, 
"spend  more  in  gloves  and  fans  and  trim- 
mings, and  such  like  galanterics,  than  foreign 
princesses  expend  on  themselves  and  their  whole 
household." 

All  the  celebrities  of  the  court  might  be  seen 
promenading  in  the  Place  Royale  when  the 
mousquetaire  cymbals  and  trumpets  performed. 
There  is  Madame  la  Princesse,  more  haughty 
than  ever,  and  the  hero  of  Rocroi  at  her  side  ; 
there  the  beautiful  Madame  de  Longueville, 
with  the  Comte  de  Coligny — Ninon's  cher  ami  — 
in  assiduous  attendance  upon  her.  This  excites 
much  notice  and  comment,  and  many  significant 
glances     are      exchanged     amongst     the     ladies. 


276  OLD   PARIS 

There,  sauntering  together,  are  the  Duchesse 
de  Montbazon  and  her  humble  servant,  the 
Due  de  Longueville ;  the  Marquise  de  Sable, 
too,  and  her  friend  De  la  Rochefoucauld.  She 
is  building  a  house  for  herself  within  the  pre- 
cincts of  Port  Royal ;  by  no  means  to  retire 
from  the  world,  but  to  enjoy  society  or  to 
devote  herself  to  religion,  just  as  she  may  feel 
inclined.  She  has  many  habits  and  traits  of 
character  in  common  with  the  queen ;  she  is 
desperately  idle,  has  an  excellent  appetite,  and 
is  fond  of  pampering  it,  and,  like  Anne  of 
Austria,  thinks  that  "/^  belle  galanterie''  and 
devotion  should  walk  hand-in-hand ;  but  she  has 
had  more  education  than  the  queen,  and  is  fond 
of  literary  society.  She  is  distinguished  for  "  Ics 
belles  nianihes,''  and  is  especially  prone  to  con- 
struct ^^  niaximes  et  pens^es." 

La  Rochefoucauld  looks  as  if  he  were  not 
well  pleased  ;  he  has  a  surly  air.  Saint  Simon 
has  told  us  that  a  morose,  proud  temper  was  a 
characteristic  of  his  family.  Just  now  he  may 
be  excused,  for  he  has  reason  to  be  displeased 
with  the  queen,  towards  whom  both  he  and 
Beaufort-Vendome  were  inclined  to  display 
much  chivalric  devotion.  But  the  cardinal 
stepped  in  and  prevented  Anne  from  fulfilling 
the  promises  she  had  made  of  giving  La  Roche- 
foucauld the  governorship  of  Normandy.  She 
looked  coldly  on  him,  too ;    no   longer    bestowed 


Duke  ^c  la  IRocbefoucault) 


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THE   FRENCH  NAVY  2// 

on  him  one  of  those  smiles  that  Madame  de 
Motteville  tells  us  were  so  irresistible.  La 
Rochefoucauld  resented  this  treatment,  and 
joined  ^^  Les  Importanis,"  the  party  opposed 
to  Mazarin.  Beaufort  was  the  chief  of  this 
party.  He  had  desired  to  be  placed  at  the  head 
of  the  admiralty.  The  cardinal  refused  to 
gratify  him ;  he  thought  him  incompetent,  and 
disliked  him  for  his  popularity ;  generally,  too, 
the  duke  was  considered  fit  only  to  play  the 
part  of  "  ?ni  heros  de  theatre^  But  as  the 
entire  French  navy  then  consisted  of  but  two 
or  three  rotten  vessels,  no  great  ability  was 
needed  to  direct  that  department  of  the  state. 
Beaufort  was  indignant,  and  became  the  cardinal's 
enemy. 

But  look  once  more  at  the  company.  There 
is  Mademoiselle  Ninon,  and  she  is  escorted  by 
her  friend  Saint  Evremond  and  a  dashing  nioiis- 
qnetaire  noir.  She  wears  a  violet  dress  with  a 
woven-in  pattern  of  black  and  gold.  France 
has  begun  to  be  famous  for  those  thick  rich 
silks.  Several  of  these  mousquetaires  have 
ridden  up  to  join  the  gay  throng  from  their 
barracks,  or  hotel,  as  it  is  called,  on  the  road 
to  Charenton,  just  beyond  the  Bastille.  They 
leave  their  horses  and  their  large  riding-cloaks 
—  which  cover  up  their  horses  as  well  as  them- 
selves—  with  their  servants,  who  wait  their 
return  outside  on  the  Place.     Nearly  the  whole  of 


2"]^  OLD   PARIS 

the  mousqiietaire  corps  are  Gascons  and  cadets 
of  good  family;  for  in  Gascony  the  younger 
sons  have  to  seek  their  fortune  in  the  world. 
They  are  a  dashing  set  of  men,  rather  boastful 
in  Gascon  fashion,  fond  of  vaunting  their  prowess, 
and  success  in  sunning  themselves  in  the  light  of 
bright  eyes  and  ladies'  smiles  ;  but  they  are  over- 
flowing with  valour,  are  generally  good-tempered, 
and  bear  a  resemblance  —  more  or  less  marked  — 
to  the  popular  Gascon  king. 

They  wear  black  or  gray  short  coats,  a  large 
cross  on  the  breastplate,  like  the  ancient 
Templars,  felt  hats  with  a  flying  plume,  wide 
pantaloons,  with  high  wrinkled  leather  boots 
and  large  brass  spurs.  They  are  extremely 
well  lodged  in  a  spacious  hotel  with  fine  gar- 
dens and  ample  stabling.  It  has  a  fencing 
saloon,  a  riding-house,  and  a  cour  ifhoimetir. 
They  are  favourites — very  great  favourites  —  in 
this  fashionable  faubourg  of  the  Marais  ;  and  it 
is  not  without  reason  they  bear  themselves 
with  that  jaunty  air  you  may  remark  as  they 
join  the  beau  vtonde  in  the  garden,  and  lift 
their  plumed  hats  with  that  self-assured  smile 
to  the  brightest  belles,  seeming  to  ask  —  with  no 
doubt  of  the  reply — "Are  we  not  charming 
fellows .'' " 

The  trumpets  and  cymbals  have  come  to  the 
end  of  their  programme,  and  the  company  begin 
to    disperse.     The    princes    D'Enghien    and    De 


LE   COMTE   DE    COL /G NY  279 

Conti  have  decamped  with  their  mother  and 
sister.  Young  De  CoHgny  passes  over  to  say 
a  few  words  to  Mademoiselle  Ninon,  who  is  not 
the  least  in  the  world  displeased  that  he  has 
transferred  his  attentions  to  the  beautiful 
duchess,  though  she  knows  he  has  lately  ob- 
tained leave  to  sigh  at  her  feet  ^^  en  galant  et 
honnete  homme."  He  excuses  himself  for  not 
joining  her  sooner,  but  with  a  gay  yet  some- 
what derisive  laugh,  she  "  bids  him  go  lie  at  the 
feet  of  his  duchess,  and  sigh  there,  and  die 
there,  too,  if  he  choose."  Her  calecJie  drives  up; 
Saint  Evremond  and  her  mousquetaire  friend  hand 
her  in.  Coligny  follows  in  the  train  of  Madame 
de  Montbazon,  who  lives  in  the  Place  Royale, 
and  with  whom  many  of  the  promenaders  have 
returned  to  converse,  play  picquet,  and  amuse 
themselves  during  the  rest  of  the  afternoon. 
Poor  Coligny !  and  he  really  has  to  die  for  his 
duchess.  Alas  !  that  the  musical  comedietta  of 
the  morning  should  result  in  a  tragedy. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  Mysterious  Billets-doux.  —  To  Whom  do  they  Belong?  — 
Rival  Belles.  —  A  Tale  of  Turpitude.  —  The  Lover  and 
the  Husband.  —  Public  Apology  Demanded.  —  Difficult 
Diplomacy.  —  A  Doubtful  Peace.  —  Dispersion  of  "  Les 
Importants."  —  Coligny  Challenges  De  Guise. —  A  Duel 
on  the  Place  Royale.  —  Death  of  De  Coligny.  —  "  Argentan 
at  Ismanie."  —  Triste  Renown  of  the  Duchess. 

I  HE  young  Count  de  Coligny  remained 
but  a  short  time  in  the  salons  of  the 
Duchesse  de  Montbazon,  Soon  after 
his  departure,  a  lady  of  the  company  picked  up 
two  letters  that  were  lying  on  the  floor,  and 
handed  them  to  the  duchess.  They  were  "with- 
out either  signature  or  address,  were  written  in 
a  feminine  hand,  and  proved  to  be  love-letters, 
rather  impassioned  in  style,  for  the  duchess  made 
no  scruple  of  reading  them  for  the  general  amuse- 
ment of  the  guests.  Curiosity  was  piqued.  "Who 
could  have  written  them.'"  "Who  was  the  re- 
cipient .-*  "  "Had  any  of  the  company  who  entered 
with  her  left  the  Hotel.'"  Several  had  left. 
"But  the  last  to  leave,"  exclaims  the  duchess 
with  unconcealed  delight,  "  was  Maurice  de  Co- 
ligny." "  Unawares  he  must  have  let  them  fall 
from  his  pocket,"  says  another.  "To  whom 
could  they    belong    but    Maurice.'"    cry    two    or 

280 


RIVAL   BELLES  28 I 

three  voices  in  chorus.  "They  are  his,  I  am 
certain;  but  who  is  the  writer?"  says  Madame 
de  Montbazon,  mahgnantly,  and  almost  in  a  whis- 
per, as  she  casts  her  eyes  searchingly  round  the 
salon.  The  Due  de  Longueville  happens  to  be 
absent,  which  is  rather  unusual,  so  persistently 
does  he  haunt  the  Hotel  de  Montbazon. 

The  duchess,  therefore,  in  a  tone  intended  to 
suggest  rather  than  to  assert,  says,  "  La  belle  des 
belles  f  The  ^yx\\^2X)[i\Tm^g  grandes  davies  smile 
significantly  their  assent,  —  a  smile  difficult  indeed 
to  describe,  but  one  readily  imagined  by  all  women 
who  have  been  present  (and  where  is  the  woman 
who  has  not.'')  when  an  absent  acquaintance,  or 
friend,  if  you  will,  of  whom  a  little  jealousy  was 
felt,  has  been  maligned. 

Madame  de  Montbazon  had  been  jealous  of  the 
young  Duchesse  de  Longueville  from  the  time 
that  her  marriage  was  first  announced  with  the 
duke,  though  he  had  made  no  effort  to  break 
from  the  chains  in  which  she  still  held  him.  She 
believed  that  all  the  beauty  of  the  court  paled 
before  her  own ;  but  to  her  secret  horror  she  was 
verging  on  that  period  of  life  the  French  are 
pleased  to  stigmatize  as  the  ^'  terrible  qitarantai)iey- 
Her  possible  rival  was  yet  in  her  teens,  and  this 
was  not  a  pleasant  thought  to  her.  When  she 
heard  that  small-pox  had  attacked  the  beautiful 
bride,  she  looked  anxiously  for  her  reappearance 
in    society,  not    doubting    but   that    the  name  so 


282  OLD  PARIS 

generally  given  to  her  of  ''la  belle  des belles''  could 
no  longer  be  applied,  except  derisively.  How, 
then,  was  she  mortified  when  compelled  to  ac- 
knowledge that  the  dreaded  scourge  of  beauty 
had  swept  over  her  rival's  lovely  face  without 
leaving  a  trace  or  an  impress  discernible,  even  to 
her  searching  eyes.  But  her  faithful  cicisbeo  con- 
tinued unswervingly  to  dance  attendance  upon 
her,  which  might  have  been  gratifying  had  not 
the  young  duchess  —  while  showing  utter  indiffer- 
ence to  it  —  maintained  her  " graiide  reputation  de 
vertu  et  de  sagesse!' 

Madame  de  Montbazon  was  not  of  the  Ram- 
bouillet  circle,  but  she  well  understood  the  theory 
of  the  '' amour  ehevalresqite,'' 

"  En  del  uti  Dieu, 
En  tei're  une  deesse" 

and  that  ^' les  Jionnetcs  et  galants  hommes''  were 
merely  ''amants  mojfensifs,''  illustrative  of  the 
idea,  gaining  increased  prevalence  in  polite 
French  society,  that  woman  was  a  superior  being, 
to  whom  the  homage  of  respectful  admiration  was 
to  be  unceasingly  offered.  The  letters  that  had 
fallen  into  her  hands  breathed  a  different  spirit 
from  that  permitted  to  the  high-flown  chivalry  in 
vogue.  They  were  compromising  to  the  writer, 
and  the  writer,  it  was  boldly  asserted  in  all  the 
salons  of  the  party  '' dcs  importants,''  was  the 
Duchesse  de  Longueville.      As  the  story  travelled 


A    TALE    OF   TURPITUDE  283 

from  saloft  to  salon  of  the  Place  Royale  to  the 
court,  it  became  a  terrible  tale  of  turpitude,  all 
malignant  suspicions  and  suggestions  caught  up 
on  its  course  being  added  to  it  as  ascertained 
facts. 

When  the  letters  were  found,  the  real  culprits, 
Madame  de  Fouquerelles  and  the  bean  Marquis 
de  Maulemont,  were  present.  The  latter  dared 
not  claim  them  and  acknowledge  that  he  had 
just  then  carelessly  dropped  them.  It  would 
have  compromised  the  lady,  who  was  in  a  dreadful 
fright  lest  her  handwriting  should  be  recognized. 
The  marquis,  however,  confided  his  secret  to  La 
Rochefoucauld,  who  had  some  influence  with 
Madame  de  Montbazon.  Having  assured  her 
that  an  eclat  was  imminent  that  would  have  un- 
pleasant results  for  herself,  as  it  could  be  proved 
beyond  doubt  that  neither  the  duchess  nor  Coligny 
had  aught  to  do  with  the  letters,  La  Rochefoucauld 
begged  her  earnestly  to  place  them  in  his  hands. 
Alarmed  on  her  own  account,  she  entrusted  them 
to  him.  They  were  then  shown  to  the  Prince 
and  Princess  de  Conde  and  their  sons ;  to  the 
Due  de  Longueville,  Madame  de  Rambouillet, 
Madame  de  Sable,  and,  last  of  all,  to  the  queen, 
in  whose  presence,  the  innocence  of  the  young 
duchess  being  fully  recognized,  the  letters  were 
burnt, — greatly  to  the  relief  of  Madame  de  Fou- 
querelles and  her  lover,  who  had  suffered  agony 
of  mind   from   fear  of  detection,   and   were  well 


284  OLD   PARIS 

content  to  leave  the  innocent  to  bear  the  igno- 
miny they  had  escaped. 

The  duke,  desirous  of  sparing  annoyance  to  his 
mistress  at  the  expense  of  his  wife's  reputation, 
advised  that  no  further  steps  should  be  taken  in 
the  matter.  Madame  la  Princesse  and  her  sons 
were  not  so  leniently  disposed.  The  reparation, 
they  said,  must  be  as  public  as  the  offence,  and 
the  family  must  withdraw  from  the  court  if  the 
queen  and  her  minister  did  not  undertake  to 
avenge  their  injured  honour.  "Were  the  feelings 
of  the  granddaughter  of  a  cook  to  be  put  in 
comparison  with  the  honour  of  a  princess  of  the 
blood!"  The  ''iviportants,''  however,  headed  by 
the  Duke  de  Guise,  endeavoured  to  dissuade  the 
queen  from  yielding  to  the  Conde  party.  The 
Duchesse  de  Chevreuse,  step-daughter  of  Madame 
de  Montbazon,  supported  the  claim  of  the  princess, 
reminding  Anne  of  her  services  to  her  when  her 
own  honour  was  called  in  question.  The  queen 
hesitated ;  but  Mazarin  could  not  afford  to  make 
enemies  of  the  hero  of  Rocroi  and  his  family. 
His  opinion  was  favourable  to  them,  and  was,  of 
course,  law  to  the  queen. 

The  Duchesse  de  Longueville,  when  this  un- 
expected storm  broke  over  her,  retired  to  a 
country  house  belonging  to  the  family,  at  La 
Barre,  a  short  distance  from  Paris,  to  hide  from 
the  world  her  grief  and  vexation.  There  the 
queen  visited  her,  and    consoled  her  with  prom- 


A   DIPLOMATIC  DIFFICULTY  285 

ises  of  protection  and  satisfaction  for  the  in- 
sult she  had  received. 

All  the  finesse  of  the  cardinal,  and  the  skill  of 
that  practised  intrigante,  the  Duchesse  de  Che- 
vreuse,  were  exerted  to  prepare  satisfactorily  the 
apology,  and  the  harangue  that  was  to  form  the 
reply.  It  taxed  their  powers  to  the  utmost. 
Every  word  underwent  a  long  discussion  before 
they  agreed  to  accept  or  reject  it.  No  public 
act  involving  the  fate  of  nations  ever  needed 
for  its  satisfactory  adjustment  more  skilful  diplo- 
macy. And  the  cardinal  at  the  same  time  was 
doing  his  utmost  to  induce  the  opposing  parties 
to  come  to  a  private  explanation  and  arrange- 
ment. In  vain  he  employed  his  winning  tongue 
to  induce  one  side  to  acknowledge  too  much,  the 
other  to  accept  too  little.  Again  he  and  Madame 
de  Chevreuse,  with  as  much  assiduity  as  if  their 
own  welfare  and  the  happiness  of  their  lives  de- 
pended upon  it,  applied  themselves  to  the  task  of 
arranging  a  peace  on  terms  that  should  gain  the 
approval  of  their  clients. 

At  last  a  form  was  produced.  The  queen 
insisted  on  its  acceptance.  Madame  de  Mont- 
bazon  was  to  go  to  the  Hotel  de  Conde,  and 
there,  in  the  presence  of  the  whole  Conde  family 
and  their  intimate  friends,  was  to  protest  that 
"  she  had  never  for  one  moment  given  any  credit 
to  what  had  been  said  respecting  the  letters  and 
their  supposed  writer.     The  virtuous   life  of  the 


286  OLD   PARIS 

Duchesse  de  Longueville  was  so  well  known  to 
her,  that  she  could  only  attribute  the  slander  to  les 
mechants  esprits."  That  she  might  omit  no  word 
of  this  short  address,  it  was  written,  and,  to 
refresh  her  memory  if  necessary,  attached  to  her 
fan.  She  chose  to  read  it,  and  in  so  haughty  a 
manner,  and  with  an  expression  so  satirical,  that 
the  princess  felt  more  offended  than  satisfied  by  it. 
She  also  omitted  to  address  the  princess  as 
"  Madame."  The  cardinal  being  present  at  this 
scene  as  witness  on  the  part  of  the  queen- 
regent,  insisted,  the  princess  having  complained, 
that  Madame  de  Montbazon  should  re-commence 
the  address  and  go  through  it  again ;  which 
accordingly  was  done,  though  with  considerable 
reluctance  on  the  part  of  the  culprit. 

Few  could  surpass  the  Princesse  de  Conde  in 
haughtiness,  and  in  her  most  crushing  manner 
she  replied :  "  Madame,  I  accept  willingly  your 
assurance  that  you  have  had  no  part  whatever  in 
those  malicious  reports  lately  circulated  ;  defer- 
ring in  this  matter  to  the  commands  laid  upon  me 
by  the  queen."  The  princess  also  obtained  the 
queen's  permission  to  refrain  from  appearing  at 
any  place,  on  any  occasion,  when  the  Duchesse  de 
Montbazon  was  present.  But  the  duchess  sought 
every  opportunity  of  appearing  publicly  where  she 
knew  the  princess  was  likely  to  be,  and  refused  to 
leave  the  Jardin  de  Renaud  when  a  private  re- 
quest that  she  would  do  so  was  sent  to  her  by  the 


DISPERSION  OF  "  LES  IMPORT  ANTS''       28/ 

queen.  The  consequence  was  a  letter  from  the 
minister,  signed  by  the  young  king,  ordering 
Madame  de  Montbazon  to  quit  Paris. 

This  was  more  than  her  lovers  and  friends 
and  the  partizans  of  ^^ les  importants''  were  dis- 
posed quietly  to  allow.  They  resented  it  as  a 
disgrace  due  to  the  insinuations  of  Mazarin.  A 
plot  was  organized  to  displace  him.  It  was 
whispered  into  the  ear  of  the  queen.  Roused 
to  energy  by  the  monstrous  audacity  of  the 
rebels  who  menaced  the  cardinal,  she  ordered  the 
arrest  of  their  ringleader,  the  Due  de  Beaufort, 
and  his  transfer  from  the  Louvre  to  Vincennes. 
The  Bishop  of  Beauvais,  who  had  entered  into 
their  scheme,  was  invited  to  repair  to  his  diocese, 
and  the  Dues  de  Vendome  and  Mercoeur  were 
ordered  to  their  estates.  Suspicion  falling  also 
on  the  Duchesse  de  Chevreuse,  she  was  banished 
to  Touraine,  and  Madame  de  Chateauneuf  to 
Berri.  Thus,  the  ''important"  party  being  scat- 
tered far  and  wide,  and  the  Conde  set  triumphant, 
the  troubles  and  civil  dissensions  that  were  so 
seriously  to  disturb  the  reign  of  Anne  and  her 
minister,  were  deferred  for  awhile. 

But  where  all  this  time,  it  may  be  asked, 
was  Maurice  de  Coligny,  whose  name  had  been 
associated  in  this  scandal  with  that  of  the  young 
Duchesse  de  Longueville .-'  Poor  Maurice  had 
been  ill.  His  father,  too  (Marechal  de  Coligny, 
Due  de  Chatillon),   had  been  of  opinion  that   he 


288  OLD   PARIS 

should  hold  aloof  from  this  complicated  scandal, 
lest  he  should  further  compromise  the  duchess. 
Restored  to  health,  the  young  count  disregarded 
the  opinion  of  his  family,  and  appeared  on  the 
scene  to  challenge  somebody.  One  of  the  most 
devoted  servitcurs  of  Madame  de  Montbazon  was 
the  Due  de  Guise.  He  had  warmly  espoused  her 
quarrel,  but  had  refused  to  join  Beaufort's  plot 
against  Mazarin.  As  the  cardinal  had  always 
means  of  discovering  the  opponents  of  his  power, 
as  well  as  those  who  were  neutrals  (for  of  friends 
he  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  had  any  but  the 
queen  and  the  child-king),  De  Guise,  though  of 
the  "important"  party,  had  not  been  interfered 
with. 

Neither  the  Due  d'Enghien  nor  Coligny  could 
challenge  De  Beaufort,  who  was  safely  locked  up 
at  Vincennes  ;  the  former,  therefore,  allowed 
Coligny,  as  his  name  had  been  mixed  up  in  the 
affair,  to  demand  satisfaction  from  Madame  de 
Montbazon' s  champion.  De  Guise  accepted  the 
challenge.  Unfortunately,  Coligny  was  an  un- 
skilful swordsman,  De  Guise  an  able  and  prac- 
tised one.  Duelling  had  long  been  strictly 
prohibited.  Richelieu  had  issued  an  edict  which 
decreed  the  punishment  of  death  to  the  duellist 
who  had  mortally  wounded  his  adversary,  and  he 
had  rigorously  enforced  it.  Yet  the  practice  was 
continued,  and  with  very  slight  abatement.  Co- 
ligny was  the  great-grandson  of  Admiral  Coligny, 


A    DUEL    ON   THE   PLACE   ROYALE  289 

one  of  the  first  victims  of  the  St.  Bartholomew 
massacre,  and  the  Due  de  Guise  the  great-grand- 
son of  the  Guise  who,  on  that  fatal  day,  was  of 
the  party  that  murdered  the  admiral. 

Braving  the  edict,  they  selected  the  Place 
Royale  for  their  meeting.  When  their  seconds 
handed  the  swords  to  them,  De  Guise,  address- 
ing Coligny,  said  —  alluding  to  the  wars  of  the 
League  —  "  Nous  alloits  vcnger  les  anciennes  qiie- 
rcllcs  de  nos  niaisons,  ct  on  verra  quelle  difference 
il  faut  niettre  entre  le  sang  de  Guise  et  celni  de 
Coligny.'' 

Coligny  was  soon  disabled  by  his  more  skilful 
adversary,  who,  when  he  had  thrown  him  to  the 
ground,  put  his  foot  on  his  sword,  and  said, 
"y^  ne  veux  pas  vous'  tner,  niais  vous  traiter 
comme  vous  meritez,  pour  vous  etes  adresse  a  un 
prince  de  ma  naissance,  sans  vous  en  avoir  donne 
sujety  He  then  struck  him  with  the  flat  of  his 
sword-blade. 

Roused  by  this  indignity,  the  wounded  man 
raised  himself  by  a  great  effort,  threw  back  his 
adversary,  disengaged  his  sword,  and  the  struggle 
was  renewed.  De  Guise  was  wounded  in  the 
shoulder,  but  speedily  overcame  Coligny,  who 
was  deeply  wounded  in  the  sword-arm.  Coligny 
was  carried  to  the  house  of  the  Due  d'Enghien, 
and  both  combatants  were  cited  to  appear  before 
the  parliament  for  infringing  the  edict  pro- 
hibiting   duels.       The      Due     de    Guise    replied, 


290  OLD   PARIS 

haughtily,  he  should  appear,  but  with  a  cortege 
of  princes  and  grands  seigneurs.  The  Due 
d'Enghien  announced  that  he  should  accompany 
his  friend,  the  Count  de  Coligny.  But  poor 
De  Coligny's  wounds  being  unskilfully  treated, 
amputation  of  the  arm  became  necessary.  Being 
too  weak  to  support  the  suffering  then  attending 
such  an  operation,  he  died  a  few  hours  after  it, 
full  of  grief  and  lamentation  at  having  so  unwor- 
thily defended  the  honour  of  his  house  and  that 
of  la  belle  diichcsse. 

The  duchess  is  said  to  have  witnessed  the 
combat,  concealed  behind  a  curtain,  from  one  of 
the  windows  of  the  Hotel  de  Rohan,  in  the  Place 
Royale.  The  Prince  and  Princesse  de  Conde 
blamed  Coligny  for  provoking  a  duel  he  had  not 
the  ability  to  sustain,  and  the  public  voice  gener- 
ally was  in  favour  of  De  Guise.  The  affair,  from 
first  to  last,  caused  the  greatest  sensation  through- 
out France.  In  Paris  it  was  the  engrossing  sub- 
ject of  conversation  with  all  classes  of  society; 
but  the  court  and  the  salons,  in  discussing  it, 
added  many  imaginary  circumstances  to  the  actual 
romantic  facts  and  tragic  ending  of  this  dramatic 
episode  of  the  court  life  of  old  Paris. 

It  furnished  the  subject  of  a  romance  that 
was  prepared  in  great  haste,  and  produced  before 
general  interest  in  the  affair  had  begun  to  decline. 
It  was  entitled,  "  L'histoire  d'Argentan  et  Is- 
manie."     The    demand,  small  as  were  its  merits, 


"ARGENTAN  ET  ISMA.Y/E"  29 1 

exceeded  even  the  expectation  of  the  writer  and 
publisher,  and  taxed  the  resources  of  the  printer 
to  supply  it.  While  Coligny  was  yet  living,  the 
contemptuous  jest  was  current  in  society  that  he 
had  begged  his  life  of  his  adversary,  who,  with  a 
sneer  and  a  kick,  had  granted  it.  Under  the 
windows  of  the  house  where  the  duchess  was 
supposed  to  be  secluded,  was  sung  the  chansonnctte 
that  might  have  also  been  heard  in  every  corner 
of  Paris  :  — 

"  Essiiyez  vos  beaux  yetix, 
Madame  de  Longtieville, 
Esstiyez  vos  beaux  yeiix, 
Coligny  se  parte  mieux. 
S'il  a  demande  la  vie 
Ne  Pen  blamez  mdlevicnt. 
Car  c'' est  pour  etre  votre  aniatit 
QuHl  vcut  vivre  eternellement" 

The  Coligny  party  had  also  their  songs  in  dis- 
praise of  Guise,  so  that  old  feuds  and  dissen- 
sions were  revived,  and  with  something  of  the 
old  bitterness,  from  the  circumstance  of  the 
duellists  being  the  descendants  of  the  two  most 
illustrious  combatants  of  the  wars  of  the  League. 
The  sad  event  gave  a  kind  of  triste  renown 
to  the  Duchesse  de  Longueville.  Her  name  be- 
came popular  amongst  the  lower  as  well  as  the 
higher  ranks  of  the  Parisian  people.  She  was 
young,  she  was  beautiful,  and  of .  spotless  repu- 
tation ;  she  had    been  maliciously  slandered ;  the 


292  OLD    PARIS 

heir  of  an  illustrious  house  had  died  in  defence  of 
her  honour ;  and  lastly,  and  above  all,  perhaps, 
she  was  the  sister  of  the  gallant  youth  who  had 
snatched  the  laurels  from  Spain  and  revived  the 
military  glory  of  France.  It  was  this  renown 
which  invested  her  name  with  a  halo  of  false 
glory,  and  excited  enthusiasm,  particularly  amongst 
the  populace,  when  they  welcomed  her  as  the 
heroine  of  the  Fronde. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Preparations  for  the  Public  Fetes  Suspended.  —  A  Defeat,  a 
Victory,  and  a  Death. —  Constancy  Rewarded. —  The  "  Carte 
du  Pays  de  Tendre."  —  Woman's  Social  Equality  Recog- 
nized.—  Rambouillet  on  the  Wane.  —  Claire  Angelique 
d'Angennes.  —  A  Duel  by  Torchlight.  —  Salons  of-  Madame 
la  Princesse.  —  Sevigne  at  Rambouillet. 

'NNE  of  Austria  had  intended  that  a 
series  of  pubHc  fetes  should  be  given 
in  celebration  of  the  victory  of  Rocroi, 
and  in  honour  of  the  young  general  and  the  army 
that  had  won  it.  But  so  entirely  had  the  Coligny- 
Longueville  affair  occupied  the  time  and  attention 
of  the  queen,  the  minister  and  the  court,  and  the 
minds  of  the  people,  that  the  preparations  for 
these  national  rejoicings  were  entirely  suspended. 
The  excitement  having  in  some  degree  subsided, 
they  were  ordered  to  be  renewed.  Again,  how- 
ever, the  festivities  were  deferred ;  for  scarcely 
had  the  Due  d'Enghien  received  the  felicitations 
of  his  friends,  and  the  thanks  of  the  queen,  than 
news  arrived  that  Turenne  had  been  defeated  at 
Marienthal. 

With  all  speed  the  duke  returned  to  the  army, 
and  offered  battle  to  General  Merci  on  the  plains 
of     Nordlingen.       Fortune     again    favoured     the 

293 


294  OLD   PARIS 

French  army,  and  their  victory  was  a  decisive 
one.  The  distinguished  Spanish  commander-in- 
chief  was  killed.  His  conqueror  buried  him,  with 
full  military  honours,  near  the  battle-field,  and 
placed  on  his  grave  a  Latin  inscription,  signify- 
ing, "  Arrete,  voyageiir,  hi  foiiles  un  heros.''  Fol- 
lowing up  his  successes,  as  before,  the  prince 
besieged  and  took  Dunquerque,  which  then  first 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  French. 

At  Nordlingen  the  young  Count  de  Pisani  was 
killed, — a  severe  blow  to  the  Rambouillet  family, 
and  to  their  circle  generally.  Voiture,  who  was 
deputed  to  compliment  the  duke  on  his  victory, 
was  utterly  unable  to  do  so  from  emotion,  so 
deep  was  his  grief  for  the  loss  of  his  friend, — 
the  participator  in  most  of  his  jokes  and  frolics, 
and  whose  regard  for  him  was  great  and  sincere. 
The  r^imions  of  the  marquise  were,  of  course,  for 
some  time  interrupted,  and,  when  resumed,  were 
less  frequent  than  before,  for  the  loss  of  her  son 
was  naturally  an  abiding  sorrow  with  her. 

But  Julie  d'Angennes  is  at  last  to  become 
Duchesse  de  Montausier.  The  duke  has  wooed 
her  for  full  thirteen  years,  and  youth  and  the 
best  years  of  life  are  fast  slipping  away,  —  for 
Julie  is  now  thirty-seven,  and  the  duke  thirty- 
four.  It  was  then  as  unusual  as  now  to  find  the 
amiable  and  attractive  daughter  of  a  rich  and 
noble  French  family  unmarried  at  that  age.  It 
has    been    said    that    the    lady,  before  bestowing 


THE   ''CARTE  DU  PAYS   DE    TENDRE"     295 

her  hand,  compelled  her  lover  to  pass  through 
all  the  gradations  of  the  tender  passion  prescribed 
by  the  code  of  laws  that  regulated  the  sentimental 
chivalry  and  love  a  la  mode  de  1' Hotel  de  Ram- 
bouillet,  to  which  a  sort  of  guide  was  furnished 
by  the  famous  "Carte  du  Pays  de  Tendre "  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Scudery. 

But  this  is  an  error.  A  very  sincere  attach- 
ment existed  between  the  duke  and  Mademoiselle 
d'Angennes,  as  the  constancy  of  both  attests. 
The  only  obstacle  to  their  marriage  was  the 
duke's  Protestantism,  and  it  was  a  formidable 
one,  removed  only  by  his  abjuration.  It  does 
not  appear  that  he  was  influenced  by  any  material 
change  in  his  religious  convictions.  Henry  IV. 
said  "a  crown  was  worth  a  mass;"  the  Due  de 
Montausier  thought  the  hand  of  his  Julie  worth 
no  less.  Doubtless  both  those  renegades  found 
arguments  that  readily  silenced  the  scruples  of 
conscience;  for  conscience  is  a  good,  easy,  tract- 
able creature  until  the  deed  that  first  disturbed 
her  be  done,  when  she  often  begins  to  fret  and 
to  sting  in  good  earnest.  As  to  the  "  Carte  du 
Pays  de  Tendre,"  it  was  surreptitiously  obtained, 
and,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Scudery,  published,  with  the  view  of  bringing 
ridicule  on  the  societe  polie  or  preciciise  of  Ram- 
bouillet,  — pr^cieuse,  a  word  recently  invented, 
then  signifying  a  person  of  good  breeding  and 
distinguished  manners. 


296  OLD  PARIS 

On  this  map  of  the  progress  of  the  tender 
passion  was  first  marked  the  "  Lake  of  Indiffer- 
ence," whence  you  looked  on  the  shores  of  "  Dis- 
interested Pleasure,"  —  the  pleasure  the  mind 
derives  from  first  gazing  on  a  beautiful  object, 
in  this  case,  a  fair  lady.  Thence  the  road  was 
traced  to  the  "  Hamlet  of  Respect,"  and  onwards 
to  the  villages  of  "Billet-doux,"  "Billet  galant," 
"Jolis  Vers,"  "Complaisance,"  "  Soumission," 
"  Petits  Soins,"  "Assiduite,"  till  you  came  to  the 
larger  villages  or  small  towns  of  "  Empressement " 
and  "  Sensibilite,"  leading  direct  to  the  city  of 
"Tendre,"  on  the  "River  of  Inclination,"  which 
flowed  into  the  "  Mer  Dangereuse."  There,  after 
tossing  about,  "  from  the  base  of  the  wave  to  the 
billow's  crown,"  if  you  did  not  get  wrecked,  or 
founder  in  a  storm,  you  had  a  chance  of  finding 
at  last  the  "  Haven  of  Rest,"  which,  of  course, 
meant  marriage.  It  was  silly,  no  doubt ;  but  it 
was  intended  merely  as  part  of  an  evening's 
amusement  for  five  or  six  friends.  It  was  quite 
in  harmony  with  the  overstrained  chivalric  notions 
that  found  favour  at  Rambouillet,  and  which  were 
encouraged  with  the  object  of  suppressing  the 
shameless  depravity  so  long  sanctioned  by  the 
example  of  the  Valois  and  of  Henry  IV.,  and  to 
introduce  respect  for  woman  and  purity  of  life. 
The  Hotel  de  Rambouillet  and  its  stately  hostess 
deserve  to  be  celebrated  ;  for  it  was  in  the  famous 
salon  bleu  that  the  pleasures  of  social  intercourse 


RAMBOUILLET  ON  THE    WANE  297 

were  first  realized  in  France,  and  learning  and 
mental  gifts  met  with  their  due  appreciation. 
There,  too,  the  French  first  recognized  the  social 
equality  of  woman,  while  the  blameless  life  of  the 
marquise  set  an  example  to  her  sex,  which,  if  all 
her  society  did  not  follow,  all  were  there  com- 
pelled, by  putting  on  the  semblance  of  doing  so, 
to  honour.  For  accomplishing  so  much  in  the 
midst  of  depravity  and  a  demoralized  court,  the 
few  affectations  of  the  Rambouillet  circle  may  be 
pardoned. 

Amongst  the  bean  monde  of  the  Marais  there 
was  decidedly  more  sociability  after  the  death 
of  Richelieu.  Other  salons  were  then  opened 
in  the  hotels  of  the  noblesse  for  the  reception  of 
"  la  socie'te'  polie ;''  and  subsequent  to  Nordlingen, 
both  Rambouillet  and  its  marquise  were  con- 
sidered to  be  on  the  wane.  When  Julie  became 
Duchesse  de  Montausier,  though  she  and  the 
duke  resided  at  the  Hotel  for  two  years  after  their 
marriage,  yet  the  habitue's  of  the  salon  blen 
dropped  off  by  degrees;  not  from  its  loss  of 
prestige,  but  because  the  receptions  were  but 
occasional,  and  had  then  to  be  announced.  The 
marquise,  too,  began  to  lose  her  love  of  being 
always  surrounded  by  a  brilliant  throng  of  the 
stars  of  the  beau  monde  and  the  elite  of  the  world 
of  literature.  She  had  lost  both  her  sons  ;  Julie, 
one  of  the  great  attractions  of  the  Hotel,  would 
soon   be  leaving  her  ;  and  the  Marquis  de   Ram- 


298  OLD  PARIS 

bouillet,  who  for  years  had  been  constantly 
employed  in  foreign  missions,  had  lately  returned 
home  in  failing  health.  There,  however,  re- 
mained yet  an  unmarried  daughter,  Claire  Ang6- 
lique,  the  youngest  of  the  family,  and  for  the  sake 
of  this  lively  coquette,  who  eventually  became  the 
first  wife  of  the  Comte  de  Grignan  —  afterwards 
the  son-in-law  of  Madame  de  Sevigne  —  the  salon 
bleu  was  not  yet  finally  closed. 

This  sprightly  young  lady  —  whose  wit  and 
beauty  are  celebrated  by  Madeleine  de  Scudery 
in  her  great  romance  of  "  Le  Grand  Cyrus"*  — 
was  a  very  fascinating  flirt,  with  a  brilliant  com- 
plexion and  magnificent  eyes.  She  had  none  of 
the  staidness  and  reserve  of  Julie,  and  was  intro- 
duced into  the  Rambouillet  circle  only  when  its 
influence,  from  the  less  frequency  of  its  rhinions, 
was  on  the  decline,  Claire  being  many  years 
younger  than  her  sister.  Full  of  gaiety,  yet 
capricious  and  imaginative,  "  it  was  difficult  to 
please  her,"  says  her  friend  Madeleine.  She 
found  the  '^ socicte  polie  et  littemire''  prudish, 
stilted,  wearisome,  and  complained  of  it  so  naively, 
so  charmingly,  that  while  all  who  heard  the  story 
of  her  griefs  were  amused,  all  sympathized  with 
and    admired    her.       Until    she    married     M.    de 

*  Vol.  vii.,  p.  264.  Julie  and  her  sister  are  there  described 
under  the  names  of  Philonide  and  Anacrise.  The  character 
also  of  the  Due  de  Montausier  is  given  under  the  name  of 
Megabates. 


A   DUEL   BY   TORCHLIGHT  299 

Grignan,  —  whose  third  wife,  also  a  difficult  lady 
to  please,  to  describe  his  ugliness,  borrowed 
Guillerague's  tnot  on  Paul  Pelisson :  Qiiil  abiisait 
du  privilege  qiiont  les  homines  d' esprit  d'etre  laid,'' 
—  Mademoiselle  Claire  appears  to  have  been  will- 
ing to  receive  admiration  from  whatever  quarter 
it  came. 

Voiture,  whose  wit  and  lively  sallies  pleased 
her,  fought  a  duel  on  her  account  with  the 
Intendant  of  Madame  de  Rambouillet,  a  Monsieur 
Chaventre.  He,  as  well  as  Voiture  —  though 
neither  had  any  serious  intentions  —  "paid  hom- 
age "  to  the  younger  Mademoiselle  d'Angennes. 
Voiture  thought  this  presumption,  and  did  not 
choose  to  allow  it ;  he  therefore  sought  a  quarrel 
with  his  rival,  and  a  duel  was  the  result.  It  was 
fought  at  midnight,  —  the  combatants  being 
lighted  by  torches, — and  Voiture  was  wounded  in 
the  thigh.  He  wrote  an  account  of  it  to  his 
friend  the  Comte  d'Avaux,  and  confessed  that  he 
was  rather  ashamed  of  himself. 

But  Voiture  was  always  ready  with  his  sword, 
as  was  the  fashion  of  the  day.  While  at  Brussels, 
on  some  business  connected  with  the  affairs  of 
the  Due  d' Orleans,  he  fought  a  duel  by  moonlight 
with  a  Spaniard  with  whom  he  had  been  gam- 
bling, and  suspected  of  cheating  him.  He  was 
constant  to  the  end  in  his  attachment  to  the  scene 
of  his  regeneration  ;  but  he  was  often  away  from 
the    capital,    engaged    in    diplomacy,    and    other 


300  OLD   PARIS 

uncongenial  business  of  the  state  incidental  to  the 
places  of  trust  and  honour  thrust  upon  him. 
Georges  and  Mademoiselle  Scudery  were  gone 
to  Marseilles,  and  the  salons  of  Madame  la  Prin- 
cesse  were  thronged  since  the  brilliant  military 
exploits  of  her  son  and  the  triumph  of  her 
daughter.  The  appointment  of  the  prince  to  be 
president  of  the  queen  regent's  council  had  also 
given  influence  and  power  to  the  Conde  family, 
as  one  of  the  channels  through  which  places  and 
pensions  were  to  be  obtained.  The  princess  was, 
therefore,  more  frequently  seen  in  her  own  salon 
or  at  the  Palais  Royal — before  or  after  "le petit 
conscil"  —  than,  as  formerly,  in  the  salons  of 
Rambouillet. 

The  marquise,  however,  continued  occasionally 
to  receive  a  distinguished  circle  for  three  or  four 
years  longer,  and  it  is  probable  that  Madame 
de  Sevigne,  who  was  married  in  1644,  may  have 
sometimes  been  present  at  those  r(funions,  which 
then  so  rarely  took  place,  but  for  which  invita- 
tions were  on  that  account  the  more  eagerly 
sought.  Somaize  has  included  Madame  de 
Sevigne's  name  in  his  "  Dictionnaire  des  Pre- 
cieuses  ; "  her  connection  with  Rambouillet  was, 
however,  of  the  slightest.  The  famous  Hotel 
would  seem  to  have  accomplished  its  mission,  and 
virtually  to  have  ended  its  career  with  the  mar- 
riage of  Julie  d'Angennes. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Victories  of  the  Due  d'Enghien.  —  The  Court  Envious  and 
Alarmed.  —  "  Veni,  Vidi,  Vici."  —  The  Duchess  received  by 
Turenne.  —  Her  Conquests  at  Miinster.  —  Death  of  Monsieur 
le  Prince.  —  His  Splendid  Funeral.  —  Italian  Opera  Intro- 
duced.—  The  Queen's  Piety  Vexes  Mazarin. • — -Mademoiselle 
de  Montpensier. —  Louis  XIV.  and  Prince  Charles.  ^ — The 
Rival  Beauties  Reappear.  —  La  Belle  des  Belles  Triumphant. 

^AZARIN  and  his  adherents  had  begun 
to  look  with  jealous  eyes  on  the  ascen- 
dency acquired  by  the  Conde  family  in 
the  councils  of  the  state  and  in  the  esteem  of  the 
people.  No  name  was  so  exalted  as  that  of  the 
Due  d'Enghien.  His  brilliant  victories,  —  due  no 
less  to  ardour,  that  inspired  his  troops  with  cour- 
age, daring  as  his  own,  that  quailed  before  no 
dangers  or  difficulties,  than  to  able  generalship,  — 
excited  the  enthusiasm  of  the  nation.  The 
Duchesse  de  Longueville,  whose  influence  was 
paramount  in  her  own  family,  had  her  part  also 
in  the  homage  publicly  paid  to  her  distinguished 
brother.  "  A  friendly  word,  or  a  smile  of  ap- 
proval, from  the  belle  dncJiesse,  was  coveted  as  if 
some  sovereign  good  would  result  from  it,"  and 
no  sort  of  court  favour,  or  gift  of  fortune,  ap- 
peared to  be  valued  unless  it  came  from  a  member 

301 


302  OLD   PARIS 

of  the  Bourbon-Conde  family ;  in  whom  all  the 
grandeur,  the  glory  and  the  gallantry  of  the 
period  then  concentred. 

It  seemed  time  to  withdraw  the  young  hero 
from  the  scene  of  his  victories;  for  Mazarin 
having  imbued  the  weak  mind  of  the  queen  with 
his  own  vague  suspicions  and  fears,  the  court  felt 
a  secret  alarm ;  bore  uneasily  the  grand  airs  of 
Madame  la  Princesse,  and  looked  with  envious 
eye  on  the  social  preeminence  to  which  public 
oiDinion  had  raised  the  Duchesse  de  Longueville. 
A  detachment  of  raw  troops  —  ill-equipped  and 
ill-paid  —  was  hastily  assembled,  and  D'Enghien 
recalled  from  Flanders  to  take  the  command  and 
proceed  to  Catalonia.  He  besieged  Lerida,  but 
without  success.  In  his  absence,  the  troops  of 
the  empire  grew  bolder.  The  Archduke  Ferdi- 
nand threatened  Artois  and  Lens,  and  it  became 
necessary  to  summon  back  the  hero  of  France 
with  all  speed. 

Demonstrations  of  enthusiastic  joy  welcomed 
him  when  he  rejoined  his  army.  His  comrades- 
in-arms,  who  had  been  victorious  under  his  leader- 
ship, hailed  his  return  with  delight,  and  like  the 
renowned  hero  of  antiquity,  young  Louis  de 
Bourbon  "came,  saw,  and  conquered."  His 
battle-cry  was  "Amis!  soimenez-vo^is  de  Rocroi, 
Friboiirg  et  Noi'dlingen!''  and  Lens  was  added  to 
the  number  of  his  victories.  The  archduke  barely 
escaped  being  made   prisoner.     The    Imperialists 


DUCHESS   RECEIVED   BY   TURENNE        303 

and  Spaniards  who  composed  his  army  fled  in 
disorder.  Five  thousand  prisoners,  numerous 
standards,  many  field-pieces,  and  the  battle-plain 
strewn  with  the  dead,  attested  the  decisive  nature 
of  the  victory.  Gaston  d' Orleans,  meanwhile,  had 
taken  Gravelines  ;  and  Turenne,  Landau. 

Peace  became  possible,  and  the  Due  de  Longue- 
ville,  with  the  Comte  d'Avaux,  was  named  to 
attend  the  congress  of  ministers.  The  duke 
lingered  awhile  in  Paris,  —  he  waited  for  his 
duchess,  whose  head  was  a  little  turned  by  the 
successes  of  her  brother,  and  the  adulation  of  her 
train  of  humble  adorers.  She  was  immersed,  too, 
in  the  pleasures  which  the  wild  joy  of  the  Parisians 
had  led  them  to  indulge  in,  notwithstanding  the 
frightful  distress  that  prevailed.  But  peace, 
peace  would  rectify  all.  The  duke,  urged  to 
proceed  to  his  post,  set  out  alone.  After  a  short 
interval,  the  duchess,  accompanied  by  her  step- 
daughter, followed  her  husband,  who  at  last  seems 
to  have  fallen  in  with  the  general  opinion  that 
Madame  de  Longueville  was  to  be  set  on  a 
pedestal  and  worshipped. 

They  were  attended  by  a  numerous  escort  of 
cavalry,  commanded  by  le  Comte  de  Martigny, 
Lieutenant  des  Gardes,  and  the  duke  came  as  far 
as  Wesel  to  meet  the  duchess  and  his  daughter. 
Turenne  then  commanded  on  the  Rhine.  To  do 
honour  to  the  ^^  belle  des  belles,''  he  received  her 
with  his  army  ranged  in  order  of  battle,  and,  to 


304  OLD   PARIS 

gratify  her,  the  troops  manoeuvred  before  her. 
Turenne  had  the  reputation  of  being  "  trh  sensible 
a  la  bcaute,''  as  well  as  an  able  general,  and  the 
beauty  of  the  duchess  did  not  fail  to  make  a  deep 
impression  upon  him.  He  had  not  seen  her  since 
she  had  had  the  small-pox,  and  the  only  difference 
he  finds  in  her,  as  he  says  in  his  letters  to  his 
sister,  is  that  "  she  is  more  lovely  than  ever,"  — 
"  if  une  beaiite  surprciiantey 

At  Miinster  she  was  received  with  honours  that 
might  have  gratified  the  hero  of  Rocroi  and  Lens 
himself.  Infantry,  cavalry,  flags,  and  banners, 
with  all  the  military  and  diplomatic  grandees 
assembled  there,  were  waiting  her  arrival.  It 
was  a  triumphal  entry,  and  there  was  in  her  train 
no  more  humble  follower  than  her  husband.  The 
scales  had  fallen  from  his  eyes,  and  he  wondered 
at  the  blindness  that  had  made  him  a  worshipper 
of  the  mature  charms  of  Madame  de  Montbazon 
and  insensible  to  those  of  the  youthful  divinity 
he  now  adored  in  his  wife.  Terrible  havoc  her 
beauty  made  of  the  hearts  of  the  wily  diplomatists. 
It  is  wonderful,  rivals  as  they  were  for  her  smiles, 
that  they  ever  agreed  on  that  Peace  of  Miinster. 
They  were  certainly  a  long  time  about  it,  and 
probably  the  distracting  beauty  of  Madame  de 
Longueville  was  the  cause. 

The  Comte  d'Avaux,  Voiture's  friend,  and  a 
bel-esprit  of  some  note,  as  well  as  a  clever  diplo- 
matist, was  quite  enslaved  by  her  charms.     His 


\ 


prince  t)e  (Tonbe  (le  Qvm^  (^on^e) 


HER    COXQUESTS   AT  MUNSTER  305 

letters  to  Voiture  were  filled  with  her  praiseS; 
and  accounts  of  the  sensation  everywhere  caused 
by  her  beauty.  Her  life  at  Miinster  was  but  a 
succession  of  triumphs,  and,  from  D'Avaux's 
reports,  she  enjoyed  them  immensely.  Her  por- 
trait was  taken  by  Anselme  Vanholl,  and  was 
engraved,  together  with  those  of  the  duke,  and 
the  Comtes  d'Avaux  and  Servien.  They  formed 
part  of  the  collection  of  portraits  of  princes  and 
diplomatists  assembled  at  Miinster  to  discuss  the 
terms  of  peace.  It  is  not  the  most  pleasing  of  the 
few  portraits  still  extant  of  la  belle  diichesse.  It 
has  an  expression  of  weariness  and  languor. 
Probably  it  was  the  expression  of  her  feeling  at 
the  time,  for  she  had  begun  to  weary  of  Miinster 
and  to  sigh  for  Paris.  Friends  were  constantly 
urging  her  to  return.  Voiture,  who  wrote  often, 
told  her  that  "  Rambouillet  was  longing  for  the 
sunshine  of  her  presence,  and  that  ^^  toiitcs  les 
I'uelles  gemissaiettt  de  son  absence." 

While  she  was  at  Mijnster  her  father  died,  and 
the  Due  d'Enghien,  become  Monsieur  le  Prince, 
was  henceforth  generally  known  as  "  le  Grande 
Co7idey  He  is  described  by  Voltaire  as  a  man  of 
spirit  and  probity,  when  probity  was  more  the 
exception  than  the  rule  amongst  members  of  the 
government.  His  household,  he  says,  offered  an 
example  of  economical  management  that  Mazarin 
would  have  done  well  to  imitate  in  regulating  the 
expenditure   of  the   state.     Those,  however,   who 


306  OLD   PARIS 

were  contemporaries  of  Monsieur  le  Prince  speak 
very  differently  of  him.  He  was  immensely 
wealthy,  yet  extremely  avaricious.  Madame  de 
Motteville  says,  "//  ^tait  sale,  vilain  avare." 
Tallemant  confirms  her  opinion,  in  even  stronger 
terms.  The  queen  paid  a  visit,  on  the  occasion, 
to  the  princesse,  "  mais  pliitot  pour  se  rejoidr 
avec  elle  que  pour  la  plaindi'e!'  Madame  de 
Rambouillet,  on  hearing  of  his  death,  remarked 
that  "the  day  he  married  the  princess,  and 
conferred  such  high  rank  upon  her,  and  the  day 
of  his  death,  when  he  restored  her  to  liberty 
and  left  her  a  large  fortune,  were  the  only  days  of 
her  life  with  him  on  which  she  could  be  congrat- 
ulated." ♦ 

The  funeral  of  the  prince  was  of  extraor- 
dinary splendour,  which  gave  occasion  to  much 
irreverent  joking  and  raillery.  It  was  said, 
"  Surely,  the  soul  of  one  who  had  been  so  exces- 
sively penurious  and  grasping  in  this  world,  must 
be  suffering  agony  in  another,  if  aware  of  the  sum 
uselessly  wasted  by  the  princess  on  his  worthless 
body." 

To  amuse  the  queen  and  dispel  the  gloom 
that  had  crept  over  the  court,  —  for  both  Anne 
and  her  minister  were  daily  becoming  more  un- 
popular, —  Mazarin  introduced  opera,  and  sent  to 
Italy  for  singers.  An  opera  by  Giulio,  entitled 
"  La  Festa  theatrale  della  Finza  Pazza,"  had  been 
given  in  the  previous  year — 1645  —  at  the  Petit 


ITALIAN  OPERA   INTRODUCED  307 

Luxembourg.  Saint  Evremond  called  it  "a  fantas- 
tic production  of  poetry  and  music."  He  disap- 
proved of  it  entirely.  He  says  :  "  A  play  sung 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  as  if  the  persons 
represented  had  come  to  the  absurd  understand- 
ing of  discoursing  in  music  on  the  most  common- 
place, as  well  as  most  important,  concerns  of 
life,  is  contrary  to  nature  ;  it  wounds  the  imagi- 
nation, and  offends  the  understanding."  ''  L esprit 
ne  poiivant  concevoir  un  Jicros  qui  chant c  sattacJic  a 
celui  qui  fait  cJianter ;  ct  on  ne  songc  giiere  a  These'e 
ni  a  Cadmus y 

Mazarin's  first  attempt  to  popularize  these 
"  Comedies  en  Mnsiqite,  avec  machines  a  la  mode 
d'ltaliej'  was  not  successful.  It  took  place  in  the 
small  salon  of  the  Palais  Royal,  and  greatly 
wearied  the  select  audience  of  about  thirty  per- 
sons invited  to  see  it.  But  on  the  Shrove 
Tuesday  following,,  he  gave  the  court  an  enter- 
tainment of  the  same  kind  on  a  larger  scale.  A 
Signora  Leonora  came  from  Rome  to  sing  the 
chief  part  (the  opera  was  "Orphee"),  and  Signor 
Forelli,  a  famous  machinist,  to  arrange  and 
manage  the  changes  of  scenery  (changcmcnts  de 
pej'spectives).  The  costumes  are  described  as  rich 
and  elegant.  But  the  piece  lasted  six  hours,  and 
though  the  change  of  scenery  surprised  and 
delighted,  and,  from  complaisance,  all  professed  to 
admire,  "  on  pensait  inourir  d'ennni^ 

Three   times    a    week    and  for    two    successive 


308  OLD   PARIS 

months  this  opera  was  given  in  the  theatre  of 
the  Palais  Royal;  and  the  queen,  fearing  to 
displease  the  cardinal,  underwent  the  infliction 
of  being  always  present  at  its  representation,  from 
the  first  scene  to  the  last.  On  one  occasion, 
when  the  opera  was  so  timed  that  it  interfered 
with  her  devotions,  she  left  about  the  middle  of 
the  piece.  Mazarin  took  great  offence  at  this, 
and  was  further  annoyed,  almost  to  the  extent  of 
withholding  forgiveness,  by  her  refusal  to  allow 
the  opera  to  be  played  in  Lent.  The  extreme 
vexation  he  displayed  greatly  amused  the  court. 
To  see  him  mortified  afforded  the  keenest  delight 
to  his  enemies,  and  this  insignificant  matter,  in 
which  the  queen  had  ventured,  at  the  risk  of 
incurring  the  cardinal's  displeasure,  to  have  her 
own  way,  became  the  subject  of  many  a  lively  jest 
at  his  expense,  and  caused  many  a  laugh  in  the 
salons. 

After  the  first  representation  of  "  Orphee " 
on  the  afternoon  of  the  Mardi-gras,  a  ball  was 
given  by  the  queen.  Mademoiselle  de  Mont- 
pensier  then  made  her  debut,  wearing  the  crown 
jewels,  with  which  the  queen  with  her  own  fair 
hands  had  adorned  her.  Mademoiselle  was  then 
in  her  twentieth  year,  and,  we  are  told,  "  d'  Jinc 
bcantc  rcmarqiiable.''  She  was  tall,  her  figure 
elegant,  her  complexion  fair,  and  she  had  fine 
eyes  and  a  very  pretty  mouth.  She  was  lively 
and  witty,  and  her  sallies   were   often  keen   and 


MADEMOISELLE  DE  MONTPEXSIER       309 

cutting.  She  was  of  a  hasty  temperament,  and 
liable  to  be  carried  away  by  her  feelings,  which 
was  unfavourable  to  her  complexion ;  for  with 
every  passing  emotion  the  eloquent  blood  rose 
and  suffused  her  fair  face.  Mademoiselle  was 
not  wanting  in  generous  impulses,  but  she  was 
troubled  with  a  most  impetuous  temper. 

On  the  occasion  referred  to  she  was  resplen- 
dent with  diamonds  and  pearls,  scattered  over  her 
dress  and  her  hair,  and  adorning  her  fair  arms 
and  throat.  They  were  attached  by  narrow 
ribands  —  white,  crimson,  and  black  —  to  her 
dress  of  white  taffetas  and  lace.  They  glittered, 
too,  in  the  bouquet  of  flowers  she  wore  —  her 
elaborate  coiffure  being  completed  by  three 
feathers  of  the  colours  of  the  ribands,  drooping 
gracefully  on  her  neck. 

The  little  king,  then  in  his  ninth  year,  was 
present  at  this  ball,  as  was  also  Charles,  Prince 
of  Wales  ;  for  the  troubles  in  England  had  com- 
pelled Queen  Henrietta  to  seek  refuge  in  France. 
Louis  XIV.  was  not  a  handsome  child.  He  had 
just  recovered  from  the  small-pox,  and  was  very 
perceptibly  marked  with  it.  His  complexion  was 
dark ;  he  was  small  for  his  age,  but  fat  and  thick- 
set. His  features  were  not  prominent,  and  he 
had  the  ugly  Gascon-Bourbon  nose  of  Henry  IV., 
but  not  the  hooked  chin  which  gave  that  jovial 
monarch  so  comical  an  expression.  His  eyes 
were  large  and  nearlv  black,  his  eyebrows  strongly 


3  Id  OLD   PARIS 

marked,  and  his  countenance  was  rather  grave 
for  his  years.  Already  he  gave  himself  very 
grand  airs,  and  seemed  well  to  have  learned  the 
lesson  —  almost  the  only  one  he  readily  imbibed 
or  that  was  diligently  taught  him  —  that  he  was 
not  of  the  same  clay  that  ordinary  humanity  is 
made  of. 

Louis  was  dressed  in  a  tunic  of  black  satin, 
embroidered  in  gold  and  silver ;  long  crimson  silk 
stockings  and  black  shoes  with  crimson  rosettes, 
deep  lace  on  the  ends  of  his  short,  loose,  satin 
drawers,  and  crimson  feathers  in  his  hat.  Young 
Charles  was  similarly  dressed.  He  is  described 
as  being  very  dark,  with  large  black  eyes  ;  intel- 
ligent in  appearance,  and  very  lively.  He  inter- 
ested the  company  greatly. 

Madame  de  Montbazon  —  who  had  partly  re- 
covered the  queen's  favour  and  some  portion  of 
her  lost  prestige —  appeared  at  this  ball  in  a 
dress  elaborately  embroidered  in  seed  -  pearls. 
She  was  in  high  beauty  that  night,  in  spite  of 
the  terrible  quarantaine,  then,  Men  sonnee ;  but  a 
fine  autumn  is  not  unfrequently  more  beautiful 
than  summer.  Her  rival,  she  heard  with  vexa- 
tion, was  about  to  reappear  in  the  beau  nionde  of 
Paris,  to  shine  there  with  greater  eclat  than  before ; 
as  the  duchess  was  declared,  by  her  admirers,  to 
be  more  beautiful  and  spiritnellc  than  ever.  She 
had  seen  the  world  ;  she  had  acquired  more  ease 
of  manner,  and,  in  a  word,  was,  so  they  said, 
"truly  a  model  of  perfection." 


LA    BELLE   DES   BELLES    TRIUMPHANT  3II 

Mazarin  got  up  an  opera  especially  for  her 
gratification;  he  flattered  and  courted  all  who 
were  favoured  with  her  esteem  and  regard;  and 
to  gain  her  favour  was  to  become  the  favourite 
of  fortune.  In  her  riielle  all  the  intrigues  against 
the  court  were  carried  on,  and  gradually  she  was 
induced  to  interfere  m  those  political  troubles 
and  dissensions  which  filled  the  country  with 
discord,  and  which,  with  a  little  more  firmness 
and  energy,  on  the  part  of  the  chiefs  of  the 
rebellion  that  ensued,  would  probably  have  pro- 
duced similar  results  in  France  to  those  of  the 
revolution  in  England. 


END    OF    VOL.   I. 


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